Sometimes They Don't Stay Dead
by Lili-Hunter
Summary: She should be dead. Washington himself was her executioner. But no. Because now she's back, and she's pissed. Takes place after Episode 12 of Season Ten.
1. Our Own Dead Demons

Agent Washington stood on top of the desert watchtower. Alone, he watched over the emptiness surrounding him and sighed. Carolina was taking ages. He knew that what she was doing was personal to her, but that still didn't mean that he had wanted to be left alone with _them_. Although, they were beginning to grow on him, their annoying habits turned endearing. Just a little.

"Well, well. If it isn't Agent Washington. How's it going?"

The annoying voice sounded from behind Wash. With a barely suppressed eye roll, he slowly turned around.

"Tucker," he greeted. "I thought that you were looking after Caboose."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me, man. I can't take one more second of him asking if we are looking for Church's long-lost face."

"Actually, that's a lot closer to the truth than I would have expected. Do you think there's something wrong with him?" Wash asked, concerned.

Tucker waved the suggestion away. "Nah," he said dismissively. "Let's just cross our fingers and hope for the best. He's bound to catch up one day."

"I don't know," said Wash. "You really think so?"

"Dude, that was a fucking joke. Caboose is an idiot, and that will never change."

Wash laughed, but otherwise said nothing. After a minute of relaxed silence, Tucker spoke up again.  
"So, Wash. How are the ladies at Project Freelancer?"

Startled, Wash jumped. Memories crashed down on him, flooding his mind with images. A troubled girl in brown armour glared at him, her eyes alternately begging him to understand and demanding that he left. Carolina, her fiery red hair streaming as she raced away on the Mongoose. And Tex, her confident grace as she fought. And lastly, he remembered South.

His fingers unconsciously curled around the hilt of his pistol. He remembered the sting of betrayal tasting bitter in his mouth as he squeezed, firing into her helmet as she stood before him, defenseless. The quick-tempered twin in the purple and orchid-green armour was gone.

Wash still didn't quite no how he felt about that.

But he didn't mention any of that to Tucker. Instead he laughed, the sound bitter and full of haunting memories.

"None of which you'd want to get tangled up in, Tucker."

"_Bow-chicka-bow-wow_."

Washington rolled his eyes at the familiar joke, certain that Tucker was probably grinning immaturely behind his visor.

"But, like, are you fucking kidding me, man?" he complained. "First Church, and now you. Neither of you guys know any chicks that aren't complete psycho's, and would possibly want to go out with me."

Wash said nothing. He just sat there, quietly remembering a time when that wouldn't have been so true. For him, at least.

The first few years of Project Freelancer had been happy times, filled with an obsession over one girl with razor-sharp blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. Unfortunately, South had kept everyone at arms length. No one, not even North, had ever truly understood South. Before they had been separated, South had just been starting to relax her barricades, and had even let Wash in behind her protective walls. Wash wondered if, had things not turned out the way they had, South could have been able to completely lose her mental barriers, and learn to stop shoving people away.

_No_, Wash reminded himself sternly. Such thoughts were useless because things _had_ turned out the way that they had, and Wash…

Wash had become South's executioner.

Fate sure had a fucking sense of humor, didn't it?

"Hey, is that Carolina?"

Tucker pointed at a dust cloud. For a second, Wash couldn't see her, but then his visor automatically zoomed in and he saw a figure atop a motorbike, dressed in dusty aquamarine armour.

_Thank God_, Wash thought, and hurried down the ramp from the tower to the desert floor.

Carolina spun to a halt, and turned off the Mongoose's engine. As she dropped off of the motorbike, a semi-transparent and faintly blue figure flickered into being on its hood. Wash groaned.

"Don't say that's what I think it is," he pleaded. Tucker grinned.

"Sure is," he smirked. "Well, you guys wouldn't tell us anything!" he added defensively.

Wash shook his head in disbelief, but Carolina grinned and removed her helmet. She didn't seem upset over it, and Wash realized that Epsilon-Church must have revealed itself to her during their journey.

"Anyway, I have an idea," Carolina began excitedly. "I think that we should head here next, to-" Carolina broke off, her finger hovering over a map that Epsilon had conveniently conjured into holographic being. "Wait, where the fuck is Caboose?" she snapped, irritated.

Wash glanced around. Slowly, one-by-one, the members of both Blue and Red team had assembled, all except for Caboose.

"Tucker?" he asked. The soldier shrugged.

"Like I know. He could be chasing his own shadow, for all I care."

But then, Wash saw Caboose. He exploded out of the shadows surrounding the desert facility, and he now pelted up the slope towards them as fast as he could. His helmet was missing, and his expression was both confused and terrified.

"I don't like the mean lady," Caboose admitted shamefully as he joined them. Wash raised an eyebrow.

"Who? Carolina?" he asked.

"No," said Caboose with a shake of his head. "The other one."

"Caboose, there's only one girl here," Simmons said, annoyed.

But Wash wasn't paying attention to him. His stomach dropped, and he felt it settle somewhere around his feet even as his heart rose to choke in his mouth. His eyes were fixated on the figure that stood at the bottom of the slight rise.

She stood with one hand on her cocked hip, her helmet swinging from her left hand. Razor-sharp shards of blonde hair floated around her, the tips just sweeping her chin. A scarred left cheek, evident when she grinned menacingly. Her eyes were stormy, grey shards that glared up the slope, searching. Her grin widened when she saw Carolina, and she began to walk up the slope.

Her dark blue armour glinted in the sun, a different colour than when Wash had last seen her. A pistol swung from her waist, and the DMR hanging from the magnetic strips across her back peeked over her shoulder.

A ghost raised from Wash's own personal hell.

South.


	2. Sir, You Were Mistaken

_Click_.

"Move and he dies."

Instantly, everyone froze. Simmons, Tucker and Grif stopped screaming, Sarge quit yelling that someone had stolen his shotgun. Carolina paused, the trigger she held halfway down. Caboose took a deep breath and held it, muscles trembling as he struggled to stay absolutely still.

"Drop the gun, Carolina."

She hesitated, glancing down at Wash. He lay on his back, struggling upwards against the weight pressed down on his chest. But the cold metal of the shotgun pressed to his forehead squashed any hopes he might harbor of getting away.

"I said, drop it!" South snarled. Carolina dropped the pistol, and held up her palms.

_She barreled up the hill, her swaggering walk turning swiftly into an all-out sprint. Burning hate and anger swirled darkly inside her chest, but it was eclipsed by the desire for revenge that roared in her blood. Agent Washington would pay for what he had done to her. He and the Director would suffer before she killed them. _

"That's better, isn't it?" South grinned menacingly at Carolina, who got the message. _Try to shoot me and I'll blow his brains out_.

"South…" Carolina's voice trembled the tiniest bit. "You're meant to be dead." The confusion was evident in her voice.

"According to Command, I am," South agreed in a growl. Her gaze traveled downwards to lock with Wash's. She leant a little more weight onto the foot that was pinning him down by the chest. "Officially, I was KIA."

_Killed In Action_… Wash's throat turned dry, and his heart squeezed guiltily in his chest. South continued to search his gaze for a minute. Her eyes were blank, devoid of emotion. No, Wash realized. Not empty, but guarded. Yes, that was the right word. The walls that had kept South separate from the world were up again, and this time he couldn't see through them. The realization was bittersweet.

_A quick flick of her wrist had sent the small sphere soaring through the air. The soldiers on top of the hill glanced at it, drawing their weapons. South, very purposefully, watched her feet as the she tore up the desert dune. _

_BANG!_

"But… but…" Carolina hated her facts being proved wrong. She hated being confused. She hated not knowing what was going on. She also hated South. "But, you're _dead_. Wash killed you."

South said nothing. Her gaze remained locked with Wash's. His chest burned, aflame in anger and betrayal. He hated her. Absolutely hated her. She had betrayed everything and everyone, for no one's sake but her own. And yet, he was forced to feel pity for her. South was only what the Director had made her.

"Apparently not," Wash muttered. The moment, whatever it had been, was gone. South smirked down at him, and then looked away.

"You killed her?" Tucker asked, agape. His head moved from South to Wash, to Carolina and back again. "Wait, what? How is that even possible?"

"It's not," South answered. "Because I'm not dead." She shifted the shotgun to her left hand. "But for official purposes, I suppose that I am."

_A flash of white light, and South looked up. The flash-bang had exploded, destroying the soldiers' vision temporarily and filling their ears with a deafening ringing. South reached the top of the hill, and slammed into two of the soldiers. They wore the rank-and-file armour, nothing of the Freelancer quality. They were orange and maroon, and went down screaming. Next, she twisted, and reached up to grab the helmet of a bright-red soldier. Her own forehead slammed into it, sending him to the ground. She ripped the shotgun out of his hands as he fell. _

"Are you here to help us?" Tucker asked eagerly. "Because we could use another chick on the team."

"Shut up, Tucker!" Epsilon-Church said, eyeing South. "She's not going to go for you, either."

South started, surprised. The shotgun nearly fell out of her hands as the A.I. materialized. "Alpha?" she whispered. But then her mouth twisted into a bitter, mocking smile. "Epsilon."

"Wait, you two know each other?" Simmons, the maroon soldier, spoke up. South and Epsilon-Church glanced at each other. She gritted her teeth.

"Unfortunately," they both said, at the same time. South immediately rolled her eyes.

_The shotgun was unfamiliar in her hands, but South decided that she liked the weapon. Smooth and polished, the owner clearly took good care of it. She grinned maliciously, and whirled into the air. The heavy shotgun slammed into the back of the aquamarine soldier's helmet. They crumpled, and South leapt over the fallen soldier. _

"Why are you here, South?" Carolina was still surprised, and angry over South's violent reappearance, but she hid it all beneath a calm and determined voice. She had always been good at taking the lead.

The shotgun pressed a little less forcefully into Wash's forehead as South seemed to realize the hypocrisy of her next words. "I'm here to help," she growled.

"With what?" The disbelief in Carolina's voice rose a little too quickly for her to stop. "Yeah," agreed the orange soldier, Grif. "Beating the fuck out of us doesn't really qualify as helping."

"Oh really?" South smirked. "I suppose that rule never applied to Tex."

"Don't talk about her like that!" Epsilon-Church snapped. "And don't change the subject."

Tucker shrugged. "It's true, though," he admitted. "But Tex is in a whole different category."

"She always was," Carolina muttered bitterly. Quiet as the statement was, South heard it. She smirked mockingly.

"I'm here to help you kill the Director," South growled. She seemed to have decided that the time for reminiscing about Agent Texas was over.

_The grenade's effects were wearing off. South saw Carolina begin to draw her pistol, and leapt towards her. Her boot lashed out to smash into Carolina's Magnum, sending it flying. South hammered two fists into Carolina's gut before landing a round-house kick into her chest. She soared backwards, and landed next to the Magnum. _Shit_, South thought. _

_"I told you she was a mean lady!"_

_The shout had come from a soldier in dark-blue armour. South growled, and stalked towards him with stiff shoulders. She grabbed his throat with one hand, and lifted him off the ground. With a menacing snarl, she threw him into the three red soldiers, who had just started to get back up. _

Washington raised his eyebrows.

"What makes you think that that's what we're doing?" he asked.

South snorted.

"I had hacked into the Command radio communications system to find word of your whereabouts, Wash. But then one soldier reported having seen you with a soldier in aquamarine Freelancer armour. Obviously, that was Carolina. And I knew that there was only one thing that she would need you for. Killing the Director. I decided that I wanted to kill him, too. Therefore, that made you guys my temporary allies. It was easy to find you, after that."

"_How_?" Carolina asked, stumped. "We can't have been that easy to find."

"Heat signatures," South answered with a smug smirk.

"In the desert?" Simmons asked, doubtful. Wash looked up at South.

"Trust me, it works," he said flatly. Simmons shrugged, unconvinced.

After a moment of angry silence, Carolina spoke again. "How, South? How are you even alive?"

The corners of South's mouth twisted bitterly. Washington watched as she spat the words out. "Wash doesn't use armour-piercing rounds in his pistols," she growled. "And that's what he shot me with."

_Carolina was scrabbling in the sand. Her hands closed over the pistol, and South lurched towards her. She kicked the weapon out of her grip, again. Carolina snarled, and South laughed, kicking her ribs once. She reveled in her victory._

Click_. _

_South turned menacingly towards the sound. She knew what it was, and a large part of her burned with satisfaction. Agent Washington was crouched on the ground, his hands wrapped around a pistol. His helmet lay in the sand beside him. When would he learn? South asked herself. Pistols – particularly his – couldn't kill her. But she didn't mention this. She stood still, and laughed. Wash looked uncomfortable, but his voice was strong when he spoke._

_"Stand down, South!" he yelled._

_"Oh, Washington," South giggled, the sound at odds with the burning hatred in her heart. She walked slowly towards the wide-eyed Agent. "What's the matter, Wash?" she asked. "Afraid to kill me… twice?"_

Despair flooded through Wash and made him want to sink through the sand. It was true. He liked to keep one weapon on his belt that wasn't absolutely lethal. Armour-piercing rounds were expensive, and an alternative was always welcome.

But in his betrayed, all-consuming anger he had forgotten. Forgotten that his pistol wouldn't kill her. And his mistake had led them all to this.

"It penetrated," he growled in response. Now, he was just grasping at straws. He had let them all down and he knew it. "I saw it. And then I destroyed your armour."

"It penetrated, alright," South snarled. "Nearly fucking killed me."

"That was the intention," Wash snapped.

South growled. The shotgun shoved his head back even further into the sand, baring his neck. The weight on his stomach increased. "At such close range, it would have been lethal," she said, a trace of smugness coloring her tone. "But not quite. It lodged in my helmet, causing my armour to shut down."

"And then?" Wash's voice was flat. He didn't really want to hear any more of his failure. But he was also desperate to know where he had gone wrong.

He would not do so again.

"You destroyed my armour, but you didn't destroy _me_," South snarled. "When you left, I clawed my way out. My leg stopped bleeding and I made my way to an abandoned facility nearby. I stole a suit of armour, a radio and a medkit, and started looking for you on the Freelancer frequencies. It wasn't easy," South added. Something in her expression changed as she looked down at Wash. A new emotion sprang up behind her barriers. "But I had promised myself that I would have my revenge."

_ Wash adjusted his grip on the pistol, but didn't shoot. He was frozen. One look at her face, and he had known that it was really her and not just a clone. No one else was as talented as South at ripping out his heart and stomping on it. His fingers had locked, unable to tighten around his trigger._

_South swaggered towards him. Wash panicked, and forced his fingers down. A round sprayed out, but they hit the sand around South. She grinned maliciously, and kicked out. Wash took the hit in the chest, and fell down into the sand. South had been holding a shotgun; she reached out with it now and positioned it against his forehead. Her foot was raised, pressing down his chest into the ground. She cocked the shotgun._

Click_._

_"Move and he dies," she snarled._

An uneasy silence followed her words. Even Tucker looked uncomfortable. South and Wash stared at each other, bonded by their mutual anger. Because Washington absolutely _hated _her. This was not the South that he wanted. This was not the South that she had been; the South that he had loved.

This was a new South. This was the Director's South.

And he would be perfectly capable of killing her.

Again.


	3. The Kingdom of Revenge

Carolina paced impatiently, her armoured boots wearing a flattened trail in the grass near the crashed pelican. If Church noticed her impatience, he didn't comment. He was too busy talking to 'Sheila', the computer program onboard the Pelican. Apparently, they were friends.

Carolina paused her pacing to stare out into Valhalla. Her team was scattered; Wash walking next to the river, the Blues arguing near their base, and the Reds nowhere to be seen.

Carolina gritted her teeth as she spotted the last member of her dysfunctional team. South lay stretched out beside the river that wound through Valhalla, one hand tightened around her pistol and the other resting on her armoured stomach. Was she sleeping? Doubtful; so far Carolina hadn't seen South sleep at all. At night she just leant back against a wall and stared out into the darkness. Carolina didn't know why South couldn't, or didn't, sleep. She'd always been an insomniac, but now she'd taken it to new levels.

Carolina still wasn't quite sure about how she felt about South. On one hand, they'd never liked each other anyway. And after what South had done to both North and Wash…

But then again, South _was_ a Freelancer; trained in combat and survival against all odds. Her skills were badly needed, but Carolina was still bitter. Of all the ex-Freelancers that could have found them, and it had had to be South?

Yes, Carolina thought, watching the motionless blue figure. South's arrival was definitely bittersweet.

* * *

Wash, too, was pacing. Angrily, he cast a glare towards where South lay. He hated her, so much. But he couldn't do anything about it; they needed her too much, and South could easily take him in a fight.

Bitterly, he noticed that no one else was as bothered about her arrival as he was. Carolina was pissed, but that was mainly because of the way South had easily caught them off-guard back at Sand-Trap. The Reds disliked South, too, but that was only because her armour was blue. Tucker was ecstatic over her arrival, and had already called dibs.

Wash's back ached with remembered pain. He could feel the scar on his back where South had shot, and it only fueled his anger. Did she even contain a single shred of remorse for that bullet? Or did she just not give a shit?

Definitely the latter, Wash reflected bitterly. In the last months of Project Freelancer, South had changed rapidly, turning from the scarred but strong woman that he loved into a deadly, uncaring soldier, devoid of any compelling emotions other than self-preservation.

No, that wasn't right. Wash shook his head, and clenched his jaw. South was ruled by two compelling emotions; self-preservation and revenge.

He remembered the way the shotgun had pressed into his forehead as she snarled. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he recalled the way his back had been pressed firmly into the sands as she towered over him, only a single tightening of her fingers separating him from death at her hands.

Yes. Revenge was South's ruler, too.

* * *

"Awww, c'mon Caboose!"

"I do not think that she likes me very much."

"She likes you the most!"

"No, I do not think so."

"You're the only one she hasn't threatened to kill or castrate yet!" Tucker said encouragingly.

"I do not understand."

Tucker sighed. "Just ask her. It's one question!"

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I don't really want to be killed or castrated."

Caboose considered it, frowning.

"Will you give me a cookie?" he asked finally.

Tucker grinned. "Sure," he said, even though they had only hard rations.

"Okay!" Caboose yelled, his face split by a wide grin. "I will go now!"

He pounded up the hill, arms flailing. He skidded down the other side, but tripped and started tumbling.

"Aaagghhh!" Caboose cried, rolling into the water.

South lifted her head menacingly.

"Caboose," she growled. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I am asking you a question," Caboose answered cheerfully. The water ran over his torso, and streamed into his open mouth. He choked, and the water lifted him slightly off the waterbed, and carried him.

South raised her eyebrows as Caboose drifted gently downstream.

"What's the question?" she called, some of the venom leaving her voice. South liked Caboose. His childish innocence was refreshing after the dark, bloody life she had known for so long.

Of course, by 'liked', she meant 'was less tempted to throw into a wall'.

Caboose spluttered. "Would you like to… do… something….with Tucker?" he gasped, chest heaving.

South snapped her head to the side, to glare at the rock Tucker was hiding behind. Though Caboose had forgotten some of what Tucker had told him to ask, South had no doubt as to what the question had been.

"No," she said flatly. "I would rather shoot myself in the foot." She gave Tucker the finger, and attempted to climb to her feet. Her balance tipped as exhaustion caused her vision to swirl, and South was pulled back onto the grass. She hadn't slept in weeks. Her sore, tired eyes closed automatically. South didn't even have the energy to beat the shit out of Tucker.

Darkness slowly closed in on her welcomingly, and South surrendered. She was just drifting off when the familiar scream ripped through her mind.

_"South!"_

She sat up as though she had been electrified, her eyes flying open. Her pulse thundered in her veins, even as she felt her heart constrict tightly in her chest. Her lungs tightened, and she struggled to breathe. South dropped her head into her trembling hands. Tears pricked at her eyes, but South didn't allow them to fall.

_Would she ever be able to escape the ghosts of her past?_

* * *

Carolina scowled at the distant figures. God, her team was hopeless. She sighed as Caboose was carried gently out to sea. She glanced at South, who had taken off her helmet to knead her forehead after her sudden, startled episode the minute before.

Carolina frowned. Wash was blinded by his hatred for South, Tucker was constantly distracted by his attempts to flirt with the ex-Freelancer, the Reds had disappeared, and Caboose – as always – was simply clueless. South, obviously, was wrestling with dark inner demons and Carolina had her own battles to face.

They didn't stand a chance against the Director, not like this.

They needed to be unified, to stand together and act as one… Carolina's heart sank as she realized what she had just been describing.

Because, in battle, that was exactly what the Freelancers had been. A united, powerful body driven by a sole intention, unhesitating and ruthless. She needed a team like that, a team where –

"Hey, Carolina," Church called, interrupting her reminiscing.

"It better be good news," she growled.

Church winced, and looked at his feet.

"Well, me and Sheila -"

"Sheila and I," Carolina corrected automatically. Church rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Anyway, we searched… but there's nothing to find. It's all gone."

"Dammit!" Carolina cried, slamming her fist into the Pelican.

"Hey, watch it!" Church yelped. "I'm in here, remember?"

"It's fine, Carolina. All it means is that a recovery team got here before we did.

Unnoticed, Wash had come up behind them both. She shot him an annoyed glare.

"This is our third wild goose chase, Wash," she spat.

"We knew there was only a slim chance that we could find anything anyway. We're chasing trails that went cold years ago."

"Even after she's gone, Texas always finds a way to screw up my plans!" Carolina snarled.

Church shrugged, uncomfortable.

"Hey! Hey guys, remember me?"

The light, girly voice sounded from the other side of Valhalla.

_What the hell?_

A pink figure strode out from behind a rock, waving energetically. A purple medic followed closely behind, beaming. The Reds, looking distinctly deflated, trailed behind.

"Fuck," Wash muttered.

"Who are they?" Carolina asked.

Wash sighed. "I killed the pink one," he explained. "And the medic is an idiot."

Carolina glared at him. "The pink one is still here," she pointed out.

"Well, I _thought_ I'd killed them."

Carolina sighed. "You seem to be saying that a lot, lately."

Bitterly, Wash agreed, the image of a purple and green female Freelancer forefront in his mind.


	4. Of Dog-Tags and Data Units

"So, did you do it?"

Tucker smiled dazzlingly at the dark blue Freelancer before him. South gave him the finger without moving her gaze from the river that wound through Valhalla. She leant back against a rock, slumping her shoulders.

Tucker was unaffected by her rude gesture, and simply smiled wider.

"Well? Did you?"

South's reply was a low growl.

"Fuck. Off."

"Don't worry, you can tell me."

South didn't respond. Tucker eyed her hesitantly, and then decided to press his luck further; after all, she hadn't drawn her gun. Yet.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. "Did you really try and kill Wash?"

Surprisingly, South smiled. "Yes."

He whistled, and bit back a laugh.

"He wasn't kidding, then."

"Nope."

"You're one crazy bitch."

"Maybe."

Tucker snickered, unable to keep back his laughter at her answer. South sighed, and absently fingered the pistol at her waist.

"When did he tell you?" she asked, not really caring about the answer. Her eyes followed the blue and yellow ex-Freelancer as he paced angrily near the Pelican. Tucker shrugged.

"He didn't. I overheard them talking about it," he explained eagerly.

"Them?"

"Carolina and Wash."

South nodded absently at the information, and eyed the aquamarine soldier before her. His lips were spread in an arrogant grin, his eyes attempting (futilely) to smolder at her.

God, he annoyed the hell out of her.

But, he had information.

"So what's the deal with Washington and the pink guy?" she asked.

Tucker laughed before he answered. "Wash tried to kill him."

South's upper lip rose in a sneer.

"And he failed?"

"Obviously," Tucker answered, still laughing. He trailed off awkwardly when South didn't join him.

For a few minutes, silence reigned. Tucker searched his mind for another question to ask.

"Why do they hate you?"

The question blurted out his mouth before Tucker could stop it. He winced, and waited for her biting response.

He didn't get it.

"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow even though she knew exactly what he meant.

"Well, Carolina and Wash are all friends and stuff – even though she's a bitch – and they talk all the time. But you're just left out of it."

South shook her head. "Why do you think, fucktard? I tried to kill him."

Tucker shrugged. "So? Caboose killed Church, but Church doesn't _really_ hate him."

South rolled her eyes. "Right."

"No, really!"

"Uh-huh."

Tucker sighed, annoyed, and decided just to pursue another question.

"Why can't you sleep?"

South growled, suddenly done with the conversation.

"Piss off," she snapped at him.

Tucker hesitated. He _kind of_ wanted to keep the Freelancer talking, and see if he had a shot.

South spun her head around, and rose fluidly to her feet when he didn't move.

"I said, _piss off!_" she yelled angrily, clenching one fist.

He backed away slowly, palms in the air, and only relaxed when he was out of her arm's reach.

"Jesus Christ, talk about PMS," he muttered, turning away.

South snarled, and drew her pistol. Rapidly, she emptied a round into the air around Tucker's helmet.

He ran, screaming.

* * *

Wash watched warily around him as he paced. He glanced towards the pink soldier and purple medic – God, _that_ had been an awkward conversation – as they chatted and laughed in ridiculously high-pitched voices near the three Warthogs. He didn't know if they would be accompanying them on their journey, but so far they hadn't really shown an interest.

His head snapped up to the sound of gunshots.

Tucker was sprinting towards Blue base, screaming in a voice that almost matched Donut's in pitch. Wash watched as South emptied her clip, snarling at Tucker's retreating figure.

Wash had his gun out in a heartbeat, and had in trained on South in two. But then she stopped firing, and he lost his excuse to execute her. If she had kept shooting, he could have told Carolina that he had acted in defense of Tucker. But Freelancers – even ex-Freelancers – never missed, and so South obviously hadn't actually wanted to kill him. Well, no. South probably wanted to kill Tucker – hell, she probably wanted to kill them all - but the desire to stay with them and eventually kill the Director had trumped her anger at Tucker. Wash sighed, annoyed, and dropped his aim on South.

Abruptly, a loud crunch sounded from beneath his armoured left boot. Wash frowned, and crouched down. His hands searched the grass, and eventually he pulled up what had bothered him.

A long metal chain swung from his hand, dogtags hanging from it limply. Wash glanced up, at the wreckage of the Pelican that was now less than three metres away. Could it –

"Washington."

_Fuck._

Wash whirled, the fingers of his right hand closing around the chain as he cursed his distraction for allowing her to sneak up on him. Because he knew who it was, before he even saw her; he knew that voice. Knew it, and hated it.

"South," he growled.

She lifted her chin slightly when he said her name. His upper lip curled into a sneer as they both tensed.

Silence expanded between them, neither person willing to break it. He wondered why she had sought him out; this was the first time she had willingly spoken to him, other than the day of her abrupt arrival.

"Well?" he snapped finally, irritated. "What the hell do you want?"

South smirked, and waited another moment before speaking.

"I was wondering," she began slowly, stretching out each word as though he struggled to understand them, "how much longer we're gonna be here."

Wash snickered. "What, you thought this was going to be _easy_? We're tracking down the Director, bitch. It's gonna take longer than a week."

South glared at him.

"Well, you haven't exactly found anything yet, have you?" she growled. It was more of a statement than a question but he answered it anyway, his fingers tightening around the dogtags in his fist.

"No, we haven't," he lied smoothly. Maybe she'd get bored of it all and leave them behind – presenting him with the perfect opportunity to sink a few bullet holes into her back.

But South's keen eyes had caught his reaction; the slow clench of his hand.

"Liar," she breathed, her eyes flying to his fist. "Show it to me!"

"No!" Wash snapped, and stepped back.

South snarled, baring her teeth slightly. _Crazy bitch_.

"Give it to me!"

Wash brought his fist to his chest protectively, and snarled back at her: "No!"

South lunged, her hands scrabbling for the dogtags. Wash ducked slightly, and tried to roll away from her sudden attack.

But she grabbed his shoulder as he spun, and he stumbled. Laughing, South swept her leg around in a low arc and Wash's feet flew out from underneath him. He crashed roughly to the ground, and groaned. South pounced onto him, straddling his chest with her pistol pressed to his armoured throat.

She grinned menacingly. Wash snarled and bucked, trying to throw her off. But her grip was iron, and he couldn't escape her. When he stopped, she pulled off her helmet and leant down to whisper victoriously in his ear.

"Give up, cockbite. You always were the worst fighter."

He growled, but her heavy armour kept him pinned. Her lips pulled even further back from her teeth as she sneered.

"Give it to-"

Wash's swift punch interrupted her sentence. In her victory, her grip had loosened ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

He had pulled his fist free, and socked her in the face.

South's head snapped back, and her grip loosened even further. He scrabbled out from underneath her, ripping the pistol out of her hands and throwing it to the side as he did so.

"_Bitch_," he snarled, once he was upright. His fingers twitched towards his pistol, but the dogtags in his fist – if they belonged to who he thought they did – were more important than even South's death.

She coughed, her hand to her throat, and pulled her helmet back on. Wash laughed at her weakness, and stalked away.

He should have known not to turn his back.

South slammed into him with shocking force. His breath escaped his chest as he went flying, South clinging to him with fierce determination. He fell onto the hard, unforgiving ground and grunted briefly from the pain.

South was fast; in the space of a heartbeat, she shot up and yanked the chain out from between his fingers.

"_Asshole_," she spat.

She walked away, not taking her eyes off him, and only stopped once she was a safe distance away. Wash climbed slowly to his feet. His hand curled towards the pistol on his hip, but he forced it away. No, he realized. A simple shot to the face or chest wouldn't satisfy him, not now - even if it did kill her. No. Now, he had decided he wanted to do it with his bare hands; to watch the life drain out of her. He wanted her to _suffer_.

South was oblivious to the hate burning even brighter in his chest, the plan that was forming darkly inside his mind. She was absorbed in the dogtags, her fingers scrubbing roughly at the dirty metal.

_No, not now_, he decided. He needed to be stronger. South was right; he had always been the weakest fighter on the team – though a weak Freelancer was still far superior to even the strongest of soldiers. She would best him if he tried to kill her now. He needed time; time to become better than her. Time to gain the brute strength it would take to kill her.

So he stalked over to her, willing his patience forward. It came slowly, but eventually calmed his burning fury.

"It's Tex's," Wash growled, limping forward towards South. But she shook her head slowly, staring wide-eyed at the piece of metal in her hands. She didn't seem to notice the blood starting to stream from her nose; undoubtedly from when he had punched her earlier. Had he broken her nose? He hoped so.

"CT," she breathed, eyes glinting.

Wash ripped the dogtags from her grasp, and studied them himself. His heart sank.

_Carolina needs to see this_, he thought, and looked to the left. She stood a good distance away, arguing heatedly with Epsilon-Church.

South followed his gaze, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Washington."

He turned slowly, facing South once more. Her hand moved slightly towards her waist, where the pistol had previously hung, but it stilled when she seemed to remember its absence.

"Yeah?" he grunted.

Her voice was hard when she spoke, and Wash knew that, beneath her helmet, her eyes would be glinting dangerously.

"Tell Carolina that you don't have much longer."

His eyebrows furrowed, and Wash rested a hand ever so casually on his pistol.

"Why? And who doesn't have much longer?"

South eyed him evenly. "You, Wash."

He bit back a snarl. "Explain."

When South spoke, it was with a finality that made it very hard for him not to draw his gun and shoot, his previous plan be damned.

"Because I'm getting _impatient_."

He knew what she meant the second the words fell out of her mouth.

South was with them for two things; the Director's death first, and eventually – unless he could help it – his own. South was also a very impatient person. She was like fire; burning quickly and without thought. She was also efficiently lazy; she ordered her priorities in order of ease, and occasionally passion.

And killing the Director was proving to be harder than they thought with each day that passed.

And South was getting impatient.

* * *

"Carolina!" Wash called, racing towards the aquamarine ex-Freelancer. She looked up at him, her expression still stormy from her and Church's argument.

"What?" she snapped.

"Here," he said, and thrust the dogtags into her hand without further explanation. Carolina raised an eyebrow, and read aloud.

"Agent Connecticut?"

She opened her mouth again, but Church interrupted before she could speak.

"Those aren't dogtags," he told them, confused. "That's some sort of… data unit."

Both ex-Freelancers frowned, and after a moment of indecision Wash thrust it towards the AI.

"Check it out," he instructed.

Church hesitated, and then took a deep breath. Wash rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. AI's didn't need oxygen; they were fucking holograms, for God's sake.

"Oh yeah," Church continued, "if I'm not out again in like, three months don't bother coming in looking for me. Just… move on with your lives."

Carolina smiled, slightly amused, as he disappeared.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. But then Wash took a breath, and tried to speak.

"Carolina, South told me that -"

Suddenly, Church reappeared before he could finish his sentence. Wash gritted his teeth when Carolina ignored him, instead turning to face the AI.

Church's face was grim. Unconsciously, they both edged closer to the blue AI.

"I know where to find the Director," he told them. "I just remembered… _everything_."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Before any of them could react, Carolina heard someone clear a throat behind them. She whirled, to see that South had come up behind them unnoticed.

"Excellent," she growled, eyes glinting above her vicious grin. Blood dripped from her nose to her upper lip, making her seem feral. "Let's go hunting."

* * *

**A/N: Yay, the 4th chapter is up! It's a little bit longer than the other ones. I just wanted to thank all the people who are reading this; so, thank you! Hope you're enjoying it so far, and that the small fight scene isn't written too badly. I suck at action scenes, so I apologize if you were gagging when you read that. xD**


	5. I Aim To Please

Carolina let out a soft sigh, and rubbed her palm across her forehead. Weariness seemed set in her bones, temporarily extinguishing the fire that burned inside her, demanding the Director's death. She had let herself be controlled by that fire for so long, that now – when she was so, _so_ close to her goal – she was left unsure if that fire would continue to burn long enough for her to do the deed.  
And those _idiots_ weren't helping.

"That is the most fucked-up plan ever. Of all time," Wash snapped.

South bared her teeth. "Oh yeah? And I suppose you have a better one!"

"Well no, maybe I don't. But mine would sure as hell be a lot better than 'let's just storm the fucking place!'"

She threw up her hands. "At least I have a plan!"

"One that will get us all killed!" Wash retorted, his fists clenched.

"Maybe that's the point." South smirked.

"You _bitch._" Wash moved towards her, but Carolina stepped in between them and placed her hands on their chests.

"Stop it! God, just give it a rest. We don't even know where we're going yet."

"Sure we do," South answered, her gaze locked on Wash's. "Wherever the Director is."

Wash snorted. "Oh yeah? Then, please, lead the way." He stepped back and gestured openly with his hands. South tossed her head.

"Fine," she growled. "Epsilon!"

"Crap…" the AI sighed, and appeared on Carolina's right shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Where's the Director?"

"He's-"

"See? We're set," South grinned, interrupting. "Let's go."

"No," Carolina said suddenly. "Wash is right; we can't just storm in there and expect a clear shot. We need to plan – we need pictures, maps, blueprints, everything." Wash smirked.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, straightening. South rolled her eyes and muttered darkly under her breath.

"Get the Blues," Carolina ordered. She turned to look at Church, who looked back at her. "Can you help us plan?"

Church rolled his eyes. "No, I can't. I mean, I'm not a fucking _computer_ or anything."

She smiled. "Okay, well get to work. Is there an actual computer here we can use?"

Church frowned, but nodded. "Yeah. I can feel it… something in Red base. Might be a computer; I can use it, whatever it is."

Carolina turned back to South, who stood watching. "Can you get the Reds?" she asked.

"Why?" she asked. South shrugged; "it's not like we need them. Dead weight. They can't even shoot straight."

Carolina narrowed her eyes. "We need them. They are good soldiers, for all that."

South laughed mockingly. "Right. Good for decoys, you mean. Good for taking hits for us."

Wash shouldered past Carolina, and set his face right in front of South's. "They are not decoys!" he growled.

South snickered. "Whatever you need to believe."

"Shut up!" Wash yelled suddenly, angry. He leapt forward, and sent a fist into her stomach.

South coughed, and doubled over automatically. Wash laughed cruelly and brought his hands down on the back of her neck; she was thrown to the grass-covered ground. He lashed out, lightning fast, with his foot – but South was faster.

She grabbed his leg and yanked, pulling him harshly down to the ground.

"Asshole!" she snarled, and punched him in the face. He yelped, but responded with a swift jab to her ribs. South rolled away, and Wash lurched after her. He shoved his boot into her face – there was an ugly crunch, and South's nose began to bleed again.

She snorted briefly, and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. It came away streaked with blood.

Wash drew back his fist, prepared to strike again. South turned her head and spat to the side. Spittle flew from her mouth, mixed with blood, and she looked back just in time to dodge the punch. She shot to her feet, and kicked him in the groin. Wash groaned in pain, unable to get up again.

South smiled triumphantly, and drew back her fist. It shot forward – and Carolina caught it.

"Stop it," she growled menacingly. She shoved, and South stumbled back a few feet. She turned, and offered a hand to Wash. "Get up, and-"

BAM!

"Ow! You bitch!" Carolina snarled, and spun around to see South with her fist drawn back for a second punch.

Carolina spun out of the way, and faced South. The purple Freelancer grinned, blood streaming from her nose and dripping off of her chin.

They both leapt forward at the same time. Carolina ducked under South's fist, and grabbed it from behind. She wrenched it backwards, and pulled her arm behind her back. Before she could retaliate, Carolina did the same with her other arm, twisting them harshly.

"Are you done yet, South?" she growled. When there was no reply, Carolina yanked her arms further – almost ripping them out of their sockets.

South hissed, but did not admit defeat. Carolina sighed – it wasn't likely that she would respond, anyway – and let go. South tumbled to the ground with a faint cry, drawing her arms to her chest protectively. She glared at Carolina, baring her teeth slightly. This wasn't over.

"Go," Carolina snarled. She turned away and stalked off, her shoulders tight, to the Red base. Inside her mind, Church whistled.

_That was pretty badass fighting, Carolina._

_I aim to please_, she thought sarcastically.

Church snorted, amused.

* * *

"Come with me."

Sarge looked at her slowly, his eyes raking up and down the blue armour that covered her frame. "I don't think so," he said shortly, and turned back to his teammates.

South resisted the urge to snap at him, and instead pulled off her helmet. Blood still ran from her nose to her chin, making her look half-crazed. "I said, _come with me_."

The pink one – South hadn't bothered to remember his name – spoke up tentatively.

"Do we come too?" he asked, indicating himself and the purple medic.

"I don't care," South answered.

The orange one – his name was Grif, she recalled – turned to glance at her. His eyes widened when he took in her face – the blood, the brutal bruising across her nose and below her eyes, the split lip. He nudged his friend, Simmons.

"I think we should do what she says," he half-whispered. South smirked, and drew back her lips to reveal bloodied teeth.

"Yeah – let's go guys!"

Donut bounced forward. He paused to look into her face. "You know, I could fix that with make-up!" he told her brightly. "A dab of concealer, a little blush-"

"No."

"Oh," he said, disheartened by her immediate refusal. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm sure that you need to keep up your tough 'I'm-a-badass-Freelancer-who-hates-makeup' thing and all, but it couldn't hurt-"

South spun on her heel, and cracked him across the face. He lurched back, his perfectly manicured hand flying to his cheek. "Ow," he whimpered.

South snarled. She hated this guy already – he reminded her too much of her mother. Always asking her to hide behind something – makeup, a pretty dress, good-manners, her brother-

She broke off that thought before it could continue. Resentment burned in her chest, and she spent it on a withering glare on the soldier in front of her. He still clutched at his cheek, and the purple medic was prodding it with soft fingers.

"Are you coming?" she asked, her tone threatening. All five soldiers jumped, and nodded quickly.

"Yeah – let's go!"

With that, they hurried off. South gritted her teeth, and followed. She would have welcomed a little more disrespect – it would have been a good excuse to break that pink one's neck.

* * *

Wash slowly made his way to the Blue base, climbing up the ramp to find Tucker and Caboose. His mind was chewing over the fight with South – analyzing the whole thing. He had been right; he'd lose any match against South if he tried it now. He'd just lost his temper, the thought of Carolina and South using his teammates as human shields an image that seemed all too likely.

"Caboose?" he called, ascending the base. "Tucker?"

"Yeah?" came the faint reply. "Just a sec, Agent Washingtub!"

Wash relaxed against the railing, waiting for the two Blues to hurry up and join him. He looked over his shoulder, searching. In a moment, he found her talking to the Reds. He watched as they attempted to ignore her, but Donut soon stepped forward and exchanged words with the purple Freelancer. A heartbeat later, South lashed out and cracked him across the jaw with the palm of her hand.

Wash shook his head. He should probably warn the Reds not to antagonize South too much – she was a little too trigger-happy, especially around himself. Besides, as they had just seen, she took any chance to strike out at those around her.

"And, that's it!" Caboose told Tucker as they appeared through the base doors. "The tour would be longer, but we don't have a basement."

"Hey Wash." Tucker ignored Caboose and strode forward. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm… why wouldn't I be here?"

"Oh. I dunno, you just don't really hang with us anymore. You're with Carolina all the time."

"Oh," Wash said. "No, we were just discussing our next steps. We've found the Director," he explained.

"So, what are you doing here?" Tucker asked. "Why aren't you all storming off after him?"

"We need to plan. Come on, Carolina's going to debrief you all on the mission objectives, and hopefully get a map of the facility we're heading to."

"Where are we going?" Caboose asked suddenly. Wash sighed.

"Red base, Caboose," he answered patiently.

"Why? It's on the other side of the canyon…"

"Because there's cookies and milk," Tucker told him quickly. Caboose's eyes lit up and he offered no further complaint as Wash led the way.

* * *

Wash walked into the center of the room slowly, turning occasionally to glance at the machines lining the walls. Behind him, Tucker was bickering with the Reds.

"Let me get this straight: you guys built a room capable of creating realistic, holographic simulations but you couldn't work out how to walk across the canyon to capture our flag?"

"Actually, Lopez built it," Grif admitted.

Tucker snorted. "Okay, now _that_ I can believe."

And, if you recall," Simmons added smugly, "we did manage to capture your flag. So, you know, suck it Blues!"

"Oh yeah?" Caboose interrupted. "Well, our team has the most kills!"

Sarge laughed. "Team kills don't count, Blue-tard!"

"You don't make the rules!" Caboose retorted.

"Technically," Wash couldn't help adding, "Project Freelancer makes the rules. And I say that Blue Team can add my kill count to theirs."

"Lame," Grif muttered, annoyed.

"Listen up," Carolina ordered suddenly. They all glanced to the front, except for South who leant back against the wall and examined her newly-reclaimed pistol. "We've got big news."

Caboose gasped in excitement. "You and Wash are taking your relationship to the next level!" he exclaimed. In the corner, South clapped a hand over her mouth quickly, but not fast enough to capture her scornful laugh. Wash scowled, and turned to glare at her.

"No." Church reappeared, and walked forward slowly. As he advanced, his form grew until he was level with Carolina. "We found the Director."

"Yeah, we know," Tucker interrupted. "Wash told us."

"And the Blue told us too," Sarge added, gesturing at South. Church huffed, annoyed at having his glory moment ruined. He turned around to face the wall, and images sprang up almost immediately.

"He's holed up in one of his offsite storage facilities," Church began. Wash looked up, studying the ivy-covered walls, the cobwebbed staircases and raised his eyebrow. "Similar to the ones we've seen before."

Carolina caught Wash's disbelieving stare and interrupted quickly.

"We have no idea what kind of modifications the Director might have made to the compound over the years," she said warningly.

"Or, if he has any kind of security within them," Church added.

"Essentially, we need to be ready for anything," Carolina told them. "So, let's go over the plan-"

"What plan?" Tucker asked quickly.

"The plan to take down the Director!" Church snapped impatiently.

"Uh, I thought the plan was to _find_ the Director," Grif interrupted.

"Yeah, and now we found him! Good job everyone; way to hustle out there."

"The plan has changed," Carolina growled.

"So then, what exactly is the plan?" Wash asked, trying to redirect the conversation. Carolina threw him a grateful glance, and continued.

"Infiltrate the facility, and neutralize all hostiles."

"Right…" Grif agreed sarcastically. "What's _our_ plan?" he asked, gesturing at himself, the Reds, and the Blues.

"That is your plan," Carolina told him coldly. "I'm counting on all of you." She glanced at South, who remained still and impassive.

"You said we were the worst soldiers you've ever met!" Grif argued, indignant. "And, you were right! You're very perceptive."

"Look," Carolina began angrily. "I just need enough time to get to the Director."

"So then we're just the distraction?" Wash interrupted, stepping forward.

South cleared her throat delicately, and all eyes snapped to her. "Decoys, actually," she told them smugly. Wash's teeth grinded angrily.

"No, Wash; you're on lock duty. I need you with me," Carolina told him, ignoring South.

"Uh… we have to fight all the bad guys… by ourselves?" Caboose squeaked.

South coughed; "Decoys."

Tucker laughed, and shook his head in disbelief. "Fuck that," he said.

"Yeah, Carolina – maybe I should stick with these guys-"

'Leave personnel decisions to _me_, Agent Washington," Carolina said coldly.

"Look, will you guys quit complaining, and do something for once?" Church interrupted, annoyed.

Sarge stepped forward. "Look son, are you forgetting that we saved your sorry ass from the military?"

"Yeah!" Simmons agreed. "We almost died trying to find you."

"Oh, boo-hoo," Church snapped sarcastically. "Why don't you come back on your second or third life, and then we can compare notes."

"Wow," Grif said, disbelieving. "Fuck off, Blue." He turned, and began to walk off.

"Where do you think you're going?" Carolina called after him angrily.

Grif paused, and glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going home," he said tiredly.

"Oh, that's great Grif!"" Church yelled. "You know, we can always count on you to duck out when there's work to do!"

"Well, you can count me out too." The AI turned in disbelief, to face Sarge.

"_What?_" Carolina snarled.

"Don't get me wrong," Sarge began, "breaking into a military base on a rescue mission can be a lot of fun." He turned and faced South. "But I'm not getting turned into Swiss cheese as a _decoy-_" he turned back to Carolina "so that you two can finish some personal vendetta!" Sarge sighed. "This ain't our fight," he finished tiredly.

"Took the words right out of my mouth, Sir," Simmons agreed.

"Both of you – be quiet!" Carolina snarled. She strode forward angrily.

"Dude, this is bullshit," Tucker complained.

'Tucker!" Church snapped.

"Be _quiet_!" Carolina snarled, spinning to face him. "That's an order!"

"Well, guess what psycho!" Tucker yelled back. "I don't take orders from you anymore!"

"Well, _what about now_?" Carolina lifted her gun easily, aiming at Tucker's helmet.

Wash stopped breathing for a moment – and then his movements were smooth, automatic. He was done before he'd even realized he was moving.

"Don't do that," he growled. Carolina moved slowly, and looked at the pistol that was now aimed between her eyes.

"Wash, what are you doing?" she hissed.

"Protecting my friends!" he answered. He flicked the safety off; the sound echoed hauntingly in the large room and Carolina stiffened.

Suddenly, from the corner, a dangerous voice spoke. "Do what he says, Carolina." South smirked. "Wash has a history of shooting his teammates."

They both ignored her, and the smirk dropped. "Lower your weapon," Wash ordered.

"Wrong weapon, Wash," South interrupted. She laughed, and her voice dropped to a whisper even though they all could still hear her. "Pistols never work for that kind of thing."

Carolina slowly pointed her gun at the floor. "You're siding with them?" she said slowly, disbelieving.

"Wash, I don't understand!" Church cried out in frustration. "We found the Director – we can make him pay! This is what you wanted!"

Wash still held the pistol ready, but he turned to face the AI. "All I want is for you to leave," he said coldly.

Wash was staring at Epsilon – his old AI. He didn't see her raise the gun in anger. He didn't see her as she took a step back to see through the scopes.

But _someone else _did. And that someone took a few, small steps and leapt through the air. That someone tackled Carolina to the ground, knocking her gun away and standing above her, shaking in fury.

"You _bitch_," South snarled. Wash stared, wide-eyed, as she leant down and picked up a shocked Carolina by her throat. She spun wildly, and threw her into a wall. South stopped, breathing hard, and turned to face Wash even though her words were meant for the aquamarine Freelancer behind her. "He's _my_ kill."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry about the delay – you can blame my German teacher. I've been absolutely loaded with homework for the past week, so that's why I haven't updated this. I hope I've made up for it with an extra-long chapter. **

**On a happier note, the delay means that my next update will be more on time. Does that make sense? Maybe not, but it does to me. Hope you guys enjoyed the fight scenes – I think I'm getting better. Let me know what you thought of them. **

**Anyway, see you guys next time!**


	6. The Most Terrifying Weapons Of All

Silence.

Long, tense, unbroken silence.

He could almost feel it; the electricity that crackled and pulsated in the air between them, only the slightest hesitation keeping them all from being struck where they stood.

And then, movement.

It began with the slightest flicker; South's eyes, as her gaze snapped to something behind him. The fire in her eyes receded fractionally, taking a back seat behind her irises. Her expression darkened, her jaw clenching in defiance.

And then, the smallest of sounds; a heavy metal boot, scraping against the floor as its owner settled into a new position, one behind Wash's left shoulder. Another sound, a new owner also moved behind his right.

A crackle, the sound of an energy sword being activated.

A hiss, the smallest intake of breath between South's clenched teeth. Her eyes flashed.

"No, he's not." A voice, flat and matter-of-fact, rang through the air. Tucker spoke with conviction, with the barest hint of fury as he spat the words from Wash's right.

"If you want Wash, you'll have to get past us," Sarge declared gruffly. Wash hid his surprise; he had been sure that the Reds disliked him. He cocked his shotgun, and moved to stand behind the ex-Freelancer. Without hesitation, Grif and Simmons joined him. And then, after a slight pause, Doc and Donut joined him warily.

Silence stretched between them, this time laced with determination. South's gaze roved over the collection of soldiers, her thoughts unreadable. Her fingers played idly with the hilt of her pistol, but her hand was relaxed, thoughtful. Behind her, Carolina slowly stood. Her helmet had fallen away, revealing the fury in her vivid green eyes and the stubborn set in her jaw. Miraculously, though, she remained silent.

South's hand dropped away from her weapon. Wash watched the action carefully, distrustfully. But her movements were slow, resigned. "No," she agreed. Her gaze returned to pierce his own. "Not today."

It was not a victory, but triumph seared his chest anyway. Together, in an act of fierce loyalty, his friends had stood behind him, ready to attack and defend. And South had turned away, the odds too heavily stacked against her for there to be any other course. But still, her words took root in his mind and he met her gaze evenly. _Not today_, he agreed silently. _But soon_. South nodded, almost imperceptibly. The smallest of smirks twitched across her lips, but he knew that she was not amused. Only determined.

"Carolina, we need to talk." South glanced at the ex-Freelancer, who made no move to show that she had heard, or indeed respond at all. After a pause, South turned on her heel and strode out of the room.

A stupid mistake; he could make that shot in his sleep.

Easily, he began to take aim. One eye closed automatically as he lined up the shot – it had to be perfect. But suddenly, a cool hand was placed lightly over his own. Wash looked up in surprise.

"No, Wash," Carolina chastised gently. His eyebrows rose in disbelief, but the red-headed soldier turned to watch South leave. Her eyes were filled with understanding, but still she pushed his weapon away. "Let her go."

Grudgingly, he stopped. "Why?" Wash asked simply. South was a threat; not just to himself, but to their mission. And threats were made to be eradicated.

"Because," Carolina began, "I understand."

Wash's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he let the matter drop. One thing he knew, however; Carolina was mistaken. His mind rang with five words that South had once spoken softly to him, the truth of which he had at first denied, but now accepted. Carolina was wrong; they both had been.

_No one can ever understand._

* * *

South moved smoothly into the hall, and turned to the right. Absently, she wandered the halls, waiting. On the edge of her hearing, a fight soon erupted from the room she had just vacated – South smirked smugly, and then proceeded to ignore the booming voices.

As she walked, her façade slipped away. Her strides grew shorter, her shoulders drooping as her eyelids fought to stay upright. Adrenaline had kept her going, but now, away from the danger, her exhaustion slipped through the cracks.

South stopped, and slid slowly down the wall. Her legs folded awkwardly beneath her, and she tipped her head back until it rested on the smooth metal. Her eyelids slid closed, her breathing deepened. Perhaps, for just a moment, she could sleep… after all, there was no one around…

And then, her deadening exhaustion won through, and her mind entered the realm of darkness and peace. For perhaps a minute, her fatigue held the monsters of her mind at bay, but then they two slipped through the cracks, and they brought forward the most terrifying weapon of all; her memories.

* * *

_Pain. Burning, tearing, all-consuming pain. But then, that was to be expected. You didn't get out of a fight with Maine scot-free._

_No, not Maine. The Meta. Yes… that was his name, now. The Meta and Sigma, now joined by Eta and Iota. He was insane, now; Maine, that is. Funny, how while everyone was so worried about Carolina they had failed to notice their friend's mental deterioration. _

_South pulled short, stuttering gasps through her ragged lungs, struggling to breathe. Her cheek was pressed against the rough concrete – her helmet must have unclipped in the explosion. The concrete was cool, steady, reassuring. South closed her eyes for just a heartbeat, drinking in the unfamiliar feeling._

_And then she was up; running towards him. She threw herself at the insane Freelancer, but too slow. Maine – the Meta, she corrected herself angrily – swung his Brute Shot, catching her under her chest guard and sending her flying through the air._

_BANG!_

_The Sniper Rifle shot rang out loudly, and the Meta snarled in anger. South heard her brother yell something as he reloaded. She didn't hear it though; it was blocked out by the rather painful sound of her collision with the wall of the concrete base. _

_South slid down the wall and coughed, the air hacking its way out of her lungs. She turned her head to the side, and spat. Blood mixed with spittle flew out of her mouth, which she wiped raggedly. Her body trembled, and she cursed its traitorous nature. _

_Her leg pounded achingly, but she forced it to carry her weight. The injury, a direct result from her jumping off the base roof, trembled but she ignored it, and limped forward. The Meta had turned away from her, instead raising his Brute Shot to her brother. North paled, and dove to the side, away from the resultant explosion. He ran through the rubble, and South could tell that he was following the direct orders of Theta as he navigated the sharp maze._

_BOOM!_

_North was sent flying, much as she had been, and he smacked into the ground a fair distance away. The Meta snarled in victory, and stalked forward. South raised her gun, aiming carefully. After a moment, she jammed her finger down on the trigger, sending bullets ricocheting off of Maine's armour. He spun around, and fired. _

_South dove away from the blast, rolling smoothly but losing her rifle in the process. She came up swiftly, and forced her legs to move. She ran, her heart pounding unsteadily in her chest, away from the Meta. _

_Too late, a hand gripped the back of her armour, and flung her backwards. South skidded along the ground, sparks spraying up behind her. The Meta growled, and stalked towards her. _

_South was paralyzed, unable to move from fear. Her mouth went dry, her hands trembling, and she couldn't see straight as she struggled to crawl away. The Meta kicked her savagely, sending her spinning onto her back. He placed a foot over her chest, and leant all his weight onto it._

_She couldn't breathe. The air was driven from her lungs, and the Meta kept a steady pressure on her chest to prevent its return. South gasped desperately, her eyes widening as the Meta, very deliberately, raised his Brute Shot. Was that a smile, as he aimed the barrel at her unprotected head? _

_Was this really how it was going to end? After a lifetime of struggling against her enemies, of pushing the boundaries set upon her by others, her life was really going to be ended by someone she'd once counted as a friend?_

_Funny, how that worked. She would always, always be betrayed._

_BANG!_

_The Meta snarled in fury, turning away from her, and North sent another bullet forwards. It buried itself into the Meta's shoulder. He snarled, and spun on her twin with his gun raised. _Click_._

_South wanted to crow in victory, but the Meta simply threw his Brute Shot aside. He leapt towards North, knocking his rifle out of his hands. _

_A flurry of motion, most too quick for her to catch as they fought. The repetitive _thuds_ as armoured hands met equally armoured bodies rang out through the base, and South slowly climbed to her feet. Before her, North kept up bravely, but then the Meta raised his fist and let loose a brutal punch on his visor. Her twin was sent flying through the air, and collided painfully with the base wall. He slid slowly down, gasping for breath._

_South threw herself at the Meta, knocking him over with the force of her strike. But he recovered quickly, and pushed her away with a powerful kick. South groaned from the pain, but pressed onwards. The Meta's armour began to glow – it appeared to be wreathed in flames. _What the hell…?

_South grabbed the bottom of his helmet, and yanked savagely. But it didn't come away, and instead the Meta raised his right arm, and back-handed her across the face. South screamed, her fingers flying to her cheek as some protruding piece of armour cut savagely into her skin. She was sent skidding across the floor._

_The Meta rose, and shook himself roughly as though to be rid of dirt. The flames burned even brighter for just a moment, and he strode towards her. South tried to crawl away, grabbing at her pistol as she did so, and attempted to fire a few shots. But the Meta never even flinched. _

_He grabbed her by the throat, and lifted her off the ground. South's legs kicked out uselessly, striking nothing but empty air. She couldn't breathe – could feel her life slowly been drawn away from her. Her eyes bulged as she tried to suck down oxygen, but the steady pressure on her throat prevented it. Black spots began to crowd in on her vision, and everything turned steadily darker. _

_"SOUTH!" _

_The scream slowly wound its way through the fog, eventually making it through to her brain. Was that North, she wondered? Strange, he was screaming her name. Funny, that. He'd already betrayed her once – why should he care that the Meta was simply doing the same?_

_Pain. A bright, sparking explosion of pain as the back of her head met the concrete base wall. She gasped, sucking in air as fast as she could. The pressure had been released on her throat, and so she opened her eyes once she had fallen to the ground._

_The Meta was still, watching as North threw himself out of the concrete wall with a strength that could only have come from desperate adrenaline. He howled, and yelled something unintelligible at the Meta._

_And then, slowly, deliberately, the Meta bent down. His hands scraped against the floor, retrieving his Brute Shot, though it was out of ammunition. North activated his bubble shield. _

_The Meta ran, pounding easily towards the safe haven. Every sound was muted, and so South heard nothing as the Meta screamed and entered the bubble; South could only watch the distorted fight through the rippling shield. For a while, the fight seemed equal. North struck out with speed and precision, whereas the Meta retaliated with brute strength. But it was not to last._

_The shield fell silently, and South could only wonder why. Theta could have kept it up for much, much longer, so long as North had still been – oh._

_A curved, wicked blade jutted out of his chest. North's mouth moved in short, sharp gasps. The Meta turned away, roaring his animalistic victory. South felt a great weight close down on her chest, though no such thing was visible. The Meta turned, and yanked the blade out of North's chest, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him towards South as the action was completed. _

No….

_North fell limply, his chest and heartbeat moving too slowly. South watched him, bizarrely detached. This was the end of her twin – the end of their connection. Surely, shouldn't she save him?_

_A few metres away, a Medi-Pack lay discarded. It was dirty and old, but undoubtedly still usable. South knew she should retrieve it, to help her brother heal so that they might live. The Meta was distracted, not watching them. But in a moment, he would come, to retrieve Theta and his bubble shield. _

_But South did not even try to move. Perhaps, it was because North was still alive. He was still, his life-blood seeping out of him slowly, but he still just lay there. Perhaps he was unable to move. But he, not once, turned his head to look at South as she was watching him. Maybe, it was because he presumed she was already dead. But something deep and dark inside of her screamed, and knew that wasn't the case._

_So she too lay there. Still, unmoving. _

_Perhaps she should have saved him. But she knew, that when the Meta came for Theta, he would not bother to check her. He thought she was dead, too. _

_Did no one have any faith in her at all?_

_And when the Meta was gone, she could move. The Medi-Pack beckoned, waiting just beyond her reach. She could heal herself, and be away with the wind._

_And so she waited, until her brother's breath stilled and the Meta retrieved his prize. She lay still, not breathing, as the insane Freelancer passed her. And when he was gone, in the silence, she became aware of a much more deadly sound._

Beep. Beep. Beep.

_She knew that sound. The constant beep of an automatic recovery beacon. There were ways to deactivate it, but no doubt it had been beeping since her fight with the Meta. It was too late, now. _

_And so she retrieved the Medi-Pack, pawing through its contents hurriedly. Eventually, she found what she was looking for; two needles. South removed her glove, and inserted the first one into her forearm. Almost instantly, the pain disappeared. _

_She lay down, a few feet away from her brother. It was only then that she inserted the next needle, which brought her swiftly to unconsciousness. _

_All she needed to do was lie, and fool whatever stupid soldier was sent after her. It would be too easy._

_South glanced, as her consciousness faded away, one last time at her brother. He lay still, peaceful. She felt no remorse over her past actions, nor the lies she would have to tell once the soldier arrived._

_She would always, always be betrayed. And maybe the time had come for her to start repaying those favors._

* * *

When she awoke, her body was trembling. Her body and mind seemed more exhausted than before. South struggled to hold back a cry.

"South."

She jumped, quickly climbing to her feet to face the possible threat. When she saw who it was, she tensed even further.

"Wash," she replied, just as coldly.

They studied each other, both bodies tense and ready for a fight. But Wash cocked his head to the side, and continued.

"Having a bad dream?" he asked darkly. South started, only just managing to cover her surprise.

"I wouldn't say it was bad," she replied smoothly. Her armour hid her trembling, and she managed to keep her voice steady. She had long been a master at the art of deception. Wash raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I don't think I've ever heard you scream. Until just now, of course."

She stayed silent, and crossed her arms. Wash was trying to goad her into an attack, and she knew it. Usually, it might have worked, but not after what she had just re-witnessed. She was too tired.

"Where's Carolina?" she asked, after a while. Her voice lacked its usual bite, and Wash's gaze narrowed.

"They're leaving," he said shortly. "She and Church are going to find the Director. The rest of us are staying behind."

"_What_?"

"You heard me," he replied coolly.

"Coward," she snapped. Her eyes flashed in anger.

Wash remained silent, and so she continued. "You had _one_ job, Wash! _One_! To help Carolina kill the Director! I guess I should've known you'd give up on us. I always knew you were a coward."

"This has nothing to do with cowardice, _bitch_," Wash snarled. He stepped closer. "That is _your_ area of expertise."

"Oh, just shut up, would you? You know absolutely nothing!"

"Fine." Wash gazed at her shrewdly. "Go."

"What?"

"You're leaving. I don't care where you go. Just leave."

"Make me," she snapped childishly. Her hands curled into fists by her sides.

"I don't have to, South. But you will. We both know you're not welcome here."

"Oh, and you think that _you _are? They don't care about you, Wash!" South laughed. "To them, you're nothing but a replacement! A replacement for their stupid, dumb, fucking A.I. They will never welcome_ you_, Wash. You've betrayed them before; who's to say you won't do it again? You are not welcome with them, Wash. They only want your _presence_. And not yours, either. They'd happily trade you in for their old buddy."

"Shut it, South," Wash snapped quickly. She smirked, realizing she had found his weak point. "You don't know them."

"You're right, I don't." South brushed past him, and walked away. She needed to find Carolina. "But neither do you."

"You're just being petty and jealous, South!" he called after her. But South simply laughed.

"_Jealous_? Why the fuck would I be jealous of you, _replacement_?" She snorted bitterly. "They don't want you here, Wash. Get used to it."

Wash watched her retreat bitterly. "Obviously, this is old news to you, right South? You know _exactly _how it feels to be unwanted."

It was a low blow, and South stopped moving. She turned back to face him, but her features were oddly calm. "Of course I do," she replied. She made to walk away again, but stopped. "Don't get too comfy, Wash," she said warningly. Her lips twitched upwards into a cold smirk. "You know I'll be coming back for you."

"I'll be waiting," he replied, just as threateningly. South nodded, and finally walked away.

* * *

"Church?"

Wash turned at the childish voice, and sighed inwardly when he saw it was Caboose. "It's Washington," he corrected.

"Come on, Church!" Caboose grabbed his hand and tugged. "Tucker got his sword stuck in the base wall."

_"What_?"

"Tucker did it," Caboose supplied instantly. "Church, we must go!"

There it was again. No matter how much he corrected Caboose, the simulation soldier never got his name right.

_They don't want you here, Wash._

_Get used to it._

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! This was intended as more of a filler chapter, so that some questions could be answered. So, I thought we'd take a dip into South's mind for this chapter… as dark as it is. What did you think?**

**Good news: my Yearly Examinations are officially over! Holidays are now less than two weeks away, and you know what that means! More updates! Yes, I know that I have been slack, and I am so, so sorry. Exams are a bitch, right? Well, now that they are over I can write more often instead of busting my brain studying. **

**Anyways, I don't quite like the way I ended this. Ah, well. This chapter was originally a lot longer – like, two-thousand words longer. But I cut it down, and so that means next chapter will be up faster, as I have already written part of it. **

**In other news, RedvsBlue is not over! In case ya'll didn't know that. I'm so excited for Season 11 (oh… the possibilities XD) and of course, RWBY. **

**Anyway, thanks for reading! As always, let me know what you thought, and R&R :)**


	7. Just A Game

**A/N: A huge thank-you to all you readers, reviewers and lurkers. You guys are awesome – here, have a chapter. XD**

* * *

Carolina's reflex answer was a simple no.

But she checked the words before she could utter them, and slowly looked South in the eye. Her blazing grey eyes glared back daringly, and Carolina almost denied her again. But, once more, she hesitated.

She looked away from South, and thought furiously. Absently, she ran a hand over the Mongoose by her side – Epsilon waited, invisible inside the machine. She knew he was listening, and that the A.I. probably expected her to decline South. Epsilon was probably right, she decided, but she still didn't say the words.

Carolina's gaze flickered around the canyon as she considered. Wash was sitting against a rock, cleaning his rifle slowly and methodically. The Blues were nowhere to be seen, and likewise with the Reds – both were probably in their respective Bases. Carolina exhaled, and leant backwards against the Mongoose. She eyed South slowly, and thought absently that her blue armour was wrong. It didn't match the fiery ex-Freelancer inside it. She reflected that South shouldn't be wearing it – she should be wearing her own purple and green set. Armour that matched her brother's.

Carolina crossed her arms, and frowned. She knew what Wash claimed – that South had killed her twin, or at the very least left him to die. Carolina didn't doubt it to be true. And so she raised her head, and looked her teammate in the eye. But, once more, she changed her mind.

"I'll think about it," Carolina answered slowly. South raised an eyebrow, but didn't question her.

"Good," the ex-Freelancer replied. South paused for a single moment, and then turned and walked away. Her shoulders were tight, her hands tense. Carolina shook her head.

She should have just said no – denied South, and then climbed aboard her Mongoose and driven away. It would have been simple. South could have been Wash's problem, instead of her own.

But then, she remembered why she had hesitated, and reluctantly admitted that she couldn't have done it.

Because, in that moment, Carolina had recognized a small piece of herself in South, some part of her core that closely resembled Carolina's own. And so, she had pitied the disgraced twin – because Carolina herself had been given a second chance, and why, therefore, should not South?

* * *

Wash watched out of the corner of his eye as South turned on her heel and strode away from Carolina. He frowned, confused by the lack of violence – even simple anger – in their conversation. It was… unsettling, to say the least. Because it made Wash wonder if Carolina was on his side.

And he didn't want her to be on South's.

He rose slowly to his feet and stretched, wearing from cleaning all of Blue Team's weapons. Taking care of your own equipment was basic common sense, but Tucker and Caboose wouldn't do it themselves. And, despite his lecture about How Taking Care of Your Equipment Will Save Your Life In A Firefight, they hadn't budged.

And so Wash had been left to do it himself. As per usual.

He sighed, and nudged the weapons with his feet. Tucker had refused to let him touch the Energy Sword, instead giving him his old rifle to clean. It lay, now, spotless at Wash's feet along with Caboose and Wash's own. He stared at them glumly for a moment, and then checked over his shoulder. No sign of South.

Wash neatly arranged the weapons in a line, making a mental note to return them to their owners and clipped his own to the magnetized bars on his back and hip, and turned. He walked determinedly towards the ex-Freelancer, checking occasionally over his shoulder. You could never be too careful. Carolina was circling the Mongoose, studying it critically. He scowled, anger stirring briefly in his chest, and squared his shoulders. "Carolina."

She didn't react, which either meant that she had heard him coming or was covering her surprise. Probably the former. "Yes, Wash?"

He didn't answer for a long moment, dozens of possible questions flickering briefly through his mind as he decided which to ask. Finally, he just decided he had to know. "Why did you stop me?"

"Stop you from doing what?" Her voice was weary, as though tired of playing this game. Silently, he agreed. But it was necessary.

Some things just couldn't be forgiven.

"Red Base. The basement. South turned away - I had the perfect shot. You stopped me." His tone was flat, delivering the facts without any inflection or emotion. "You stopped me," he repeated.

Carolina paused, her hand frozen on the wheel of the Mongoose. "I stopped you," she agreed. Slowly, she turned and stood, watching his reaction. "I stopped you because I think that you shouldn't shoot South."

"And why is that?" Flat, emotionless, just the barest hint of contrasting ice and anger. Wash had become very good at this game. Practice, they say, makes perfect. But Wash had never practiced the game. It came naturally to him, after being both the betrayed and the betrayer so many times before.

Carolina cocked her head to the side, and considered him. "Because I think that South and I are very much alike." Her words - delivered so determinedly and formally - only confirmed his thoughts. Carolina was good at this game too.

Silence, Wash had learned, was a good interrogation tactic. People feel awkward when presented with it, and will talk to fill the emptiness. They start to ramble, providing useless information that could be _very_ useful indeed if you played the game right.

But Carolina had learned this too. The silence stretched between them, until Wash grew impatient.

_Fine_. "You are… alike?"

She watched him evenly. "You think that South tried to kill North." It wasn't a question.

"Delta told me-"

"And you think she succeeded."

"I _saw_ the body, Carolina. I was sent to destroy it. North is dead."

She nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Do you think, Wash, that I would have tried to kill Texas, eventually?"

"That has nothing to do with-"

"Answer the question, Wash." Carolina's eyes flashed, and he set his jaw.

"You would not have betrayed the program-"

"The _program_ was over, Wash. Do you think that, if I had had my chance, I would have attempted to kill Texas?"

He considered it slowly, and then shook his head. "No, I don't. You would not have tried to kill Texas."

"Why not?"

"You're too stable," he answered immediately. "You would have considered it, and decided not to."

"But _I wasn't stable_. Eta and Iota… they drove me insane, Wash. Insane!" Her voice broke on the last word.

He watched her coolly. "I'm fairly certain I know the feeling."

Carolina laughed, bitter. "True. But you do agree, then, that I was _not_ in the right state of mind when I had Eta and Iota?"

"Yes." In the brief amount of time between Carolina's implantation and his own, he had seen enough of her to know that she had been breaking. And then, when he had received Epsilon – well, he hadn't been seeing much of anything.

"Do you think that I would have tried to kill Texas, then?"

"Perhaps," he admitted unwillingly. "But you-"

"But _what_, Wash? Would you have pointed a gun at me too, called me a traitor and _pulled the trigger_?" Her voice rose in disbelief. She stared at him flatly.

Wash cleared his throat. "You had Eta and Iota. _They_ drove you insane. You would not have been to blame."

"But you think South is?"

His gaze narrowed as he snapped his answer. "Yes!"

"Why?"

He fired back the answer almost immediately. "She did not have an A.I.! It was all her, Carolina. _She did not possess an A.I._!"

Carolina shook her head slowly. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but steady, holding all the conviction in the world. "You know what, Wash? I think that may have been worse."

* * *

South stood still, her body tense as thoughts flickered erratically through her mind. Her eyes closed briefly in anger.

God, she was just so _stupid_! She'd fucked everything up, and she didn't have a clue what to do with what was left. Finding _them_ had been a bad idea, right from the beginning. She'd had a clean slate – she could have gone anywhere, been anyone, done whatever the fuck she wanted to without interference!

After all, it was hard to be interfered with when you were dead.

But, no. She'd had to come here, with her grenades and her guns, and announce to the whole fucking world that she was still alive and kicking. She ground her teeth, feeling the red-hot fury start to flicker to life from somewhere in her chest. Her heart pounded, not in fear but in anger.

_Whatcha gonna do, South? _She didn't know, that was the whole goddamn point –

_Make a plan, and stick to it. _She didn't have a plan! She'd done nothing but sit around, waiting for the others to tell her what to do since she'd got here, and now she just didn't –

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself and _do_ something! _But she didn't –

The voice interrupted, calmer now. _What have you got? _Well, she had nothing – two teams of stupid simulation soldiers, a medic, and two other ex-Freelancers.

_That doesn't sound like nothing._ Amusement radiated from the voice, and South felt like punching it. But she couldn't. Because you can't punch something that's not even there; a goddamn memory.

_How are you going to use it? _ She didn't know, did she? That was the whole fucking reason she was alone here, pacing without a clue what to do next-

_Make a plan, and stick to it_ the voice repeated.

"STOP INTERRUPTING ME!" South screamed. The words exploded out of her, hanging eerily in the following silence. She closed her eyes, and clenched her hands into fists. Yeah, now she'd blown it. There was no way Carolina was going to let a psycho who screamed at her own mind on her team.

South stopped, breathing heavily. For a moment, inside her mind there was blessed silence. But the dead don't stay dead for long – not inside your memories.

_Cool it, South. _She hissed, exhaling sharply through her teeth. Funny, he was long gone and yet somehow her twin still managed to piss her off –

No. South cut off the thought, and let it vanish. Slowly, her anger began to ebb away, leaving nothing but sorrow and regret wallowing in its wake. She hadn't _meant_ for that to happen – she hadn't wanted any of this! She hadn't thought it through, she hadn't considered it, _she never wanted this_! This… isolation, this distrust, the anger and the loneliness warring within her.

She just wanted her brother back.

But then the regret was flooded away by her anger at the realization of her helplessness, and she just shook with fury again. Would this endless cycle ever _cease_?

South snarled, and threw out her fist in desperation. She needed to be doing something, just to keep these worthless, useless, what-if thoughts from circling around her brain.

The base wall dented, flowing inwards with the force of her strike. Suddenly, the world snapped back, releasing her from her anger-fueled bubble, and she was left standing in front of Red Base, breathing hard and with a throbbing hand. South let it drop, and suddenly became aware of the whispers.

The soldiers within the base, undoubtedly discussing her. They sounded anxious. South grinned – as well they should be. But then the anger evaporated, and South just felt so goddamn _tired_. Like she could sleep for eternity.

Except she couldn't. South knew what waited beyond the misty veil of sleep – her memories, which waited hungrily for her, pacing back and forth and howling with the need to tear her apart.

South didn't blame them.

Suddenly, a soldier appeared from around the corner, as though they had been kicked or shoved out. South raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms – she knew how to look murderous and angry, even if she didn't feel the part. Sure enough, she could almost see the purple medic quivering in his shiny metal boots.

"Um, Ms. Dakota?"

South repressed a snort. It had been a long time since she'd been addressed so politely, but never had she been called _Ms. Dakota_. It just sounded ridiculous, and slightly snobby.

"It's South," she corrected him, with the slightest edge of threat in her voice. Not enough to really send him running for the hills, but enough for him to remember.

"Of course!" the medic agreed hastily, almost tripping over himself. "Um, South… are you okay?"

_Am I okay?_ The thought was laughable. Did she look okay? No, never mind that – South had long been trained in the art of deception. But surely, they'd heard her scream out. Did she sound okay? Did she _feel_ okay? Did she seem okay?

No, she sure as hell wasn't okay.

"I'm fine."

The medic stepped closer, holding some funny-looking gun by his side. Seriously, what the hell was that? "Are you sure? I mean, you hit that wall pretty hard."

_Oh._ "Okay then." She raised an eyebrow, and her tone turned daring – almost mocking. "Your point?"

"Would you like me to patch it up? I'll be done in a jiffy!" The medic beamed, suddenly overcoming his fear.

_Whatever. Make it quick, kid._ South grunted, and stalked across the river – the water splashed around her merrily, at odds with her mood – and then sat on one of the big boulders. She watched the medic, and cocked her head to the side. Surprisingly, he was not deterred, and instead bounded after her like a puppy.

"Give me your arm." He was full of confidence, now that the medic was in his element. South stuck out her hand, and watched him incuriously.

"What's your name, anyway, Doc?" she asked.

"Well, they actually just call me Doc," he answered, almost apologetically. South snickered.

"Okay then, _Doc._" But then another question occurred to her. "What is that thing?"

Doc waved the gun over her arm slowly. Bright green light spilled from it in waves, and he was watching it closely. "Oh, this?" He waved it in the air, and grinned at her for a moment. "Just a scanner."

_Huh._

Suddenly, the scanner beeped and Doc examined it closely. His eyes widened, and South raised an eyebrow. "What does it say?" she asked. "Is there something wrong with my hand?"

Sure, it didn't _feel_ broken. And she was wearing the armour. But it didn't hurt to be sure – and Doc was looking like the world had just crashed down around his ears. His mouth hung open in horror.

"No, no…" He looked up at her, seemingly heartbroken. "I think I just broke my scanner," he whimpered.

South slid off the boulder and rolled her eyes. "What about my hand?"

"It's fine." Doc stared mournfully at his scanner, before stowing it regretfully away. " But I can bandage it, if that makes you feel better."

"Nope." South started to walk away.

"Wait!" Doc called out after her. She stopped, and slowly turned to consider him. "You know… it might help, if you talked about it."

"Talked about what?" South had gone very, very still. Her eyes narrowed.

"You know. Just… stuff." Doc had gotten very nervous, all of a sudden. He should be.

"No thanks." Sarcasm dripped off of the words, and Doc flinched as thought it were poison. He probably thought she was going to hit him – with good reason.

South turned and walked away, leaving the medic behind her. She'd spent most of her life rejecting help when it was offered, and hurting those who were on her side. South knew that she was poison. It was just a matter of how long it would take before she infected even herself.

* * *

"Have you made up your mind?"

Carolina looked up, and tossed her hair out of her eyes. Wash leant against the canyon wall, watching silently. But South stood before her, shoulders slumped and her eyes guarded. She thought that Carolina would say no.

"Get on," Carolina said roughly. South watched her, shocked.

"You mean-"

"Hurry up, before I change my mind."

South brushed past her quickly, and tapped the back of the Mongoose. "Is Epsilon in there?" she asked.

"Yes," Carolina replied quickly. "No – not the backseat. You can drive; I want to keep my eyes on you." The command was laced with threat, but South nodded and quickly climbed into her seat.

Carolina's gaze flickered to Wash. He watched the pair impassively, his arms crossed. When she caught him watching, he tipped his head towards her briefly. _Goodbye._

Carolina looked away, and slowly got into the backseat. "Head straight West for a while, South. We need to get out of here – then we can find our proper heading."

"You got it." South revved the engine, and Carolina could sense a sort of nervous and dark excitement radiating from the ex-Freelancer.

Carolina looked, for the last time, at Wash. "Last chance," she told him.

But he shook his head. "Good luck, Carolina."

She gazed at him unhappily for a moment, but then turned her head. "Let's get out of here," she muttered, and South happily obliged. The Mongoose roared and leapt forward.

Carolina closed her eyes, and hunched down in her seat. Her stomach flipped over itself clumsily, but she reassured herself.

_We're doing the right thing. He has to pay for what he did. York, North, Maine, Wyoming, Connie – all of them. Even Texas, and Alpha. None of them deserved their end._

Her shoulders straightened, and she looked ahead. Despite the reassurance, she felt sick.

Carolina had never enjoyed reunions.

**A/N: I don't have much to say today, other than Merry Christmas! It's only two days away now – I think – maybe more for you guys on the other side of the world. I don't know – it's late, I'm tired, and I don't know what day it is XD Hope you guys enjoy the holiday, and have an awesome day! **

**As always, thanks for reading and please review :) See ya next time**


	8. Play For Keeps

**(If you want to skip this AN, go ahead. It's gonna be a long one.)**

**A/N: Hey, all. I know that this is extremely, extremely late, but I've been in and out of the hospital constantly for that whole time, and haven't so much as looked at a computer in that time. I've been visiting a really close friend, but it's not looking too good for her, which is why I never left her side. Hopefully she'll pull through, but the doctors are saying that it doesn't look too good. **

**Anyway, onto happier news. A lot of people have added this fic to their favourites/alerts lists, and that really made me happy. Thanks you guys! You made my day :) **

**And, I'm also gonna reply to the anonymous reviewer before we start (you can skip this if it isn't you):**

**Guest: Wow, thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this fic, it means a lot to me :) I hope you'll enjoy the next couple of chapters as well.**

**Onwards.**

* * *

Carolina's whole body ached. Days of riding in the hard, small passenger seat of the Mongoose coupled with tense nights spent in full armour had done her no favours, and so she had zero patience left as she attempted to guide South onto the small, overgrown track. It branched off the main trail as a tiny little gap in the trees, and it stretched for almost twenty metres before becoming recognizable as the road they had to follow. As a result, it was nearly invisible – and missing it could mean adding hours to their already long journey.

"No, you're driving too far to the left," Carolina snapped, raising her voice over the roar of the engine as she nudged South's shoulder with her fist. "You'll miss the turn-off!"

Her shoulders tensed fractionally underneath Carolina's hand, and she seemed to deliberate for a moment before hunching further over the handlebars. Suddenly, South jerked them savagely to the right, the Mongoose rising on just two wheels for half a moment before slamming forcefully back down. Carolina bit off a yelp of painful surprise as the Mongoose lurched and kicked up and down as South drove mercilessly over large (though previously hidden to her by the long grass) and jagged rocks. The roar of the engine rose as South urged the Mongoose to greater speed, and was soon accompanied by a thin whine of complaint as it reached its very limits.

"Stop it!" Carolina beat at South's shoulder again and was nearly unseated as they leapt over the rocks. "Go back!"

South shoved the bike back to the left, and cut the engine. She looked at Carolina over her shoulder steadily, her grey eyes wide, and asked, "What, you don't think we'll miss the turn-off after all?"

Her innocent façade would have been flawless if not for the sarcasm dripping off her tone, and the simmering anger not-quite-hidden beneath her words. Carolina's eyebrows lowered as she glowered at her companion. She sniffed disdainfully, unwilling to dignify South's sarcasm with a proper answer. After a moment of silence, South turned forward once more and twisted her wrist, sending the Mongoose leaping onwards.

Inside the machine, Church snickered quietly and marveled at the fact that the Freelancers (supposedly strong, capable and superior professional soldiers) could descend into petty, bickering bitches after just a few days of sleeping rough and spending the hours of travel with entirely the wrong kind of company. Their attitudes now were ones he found oddly familiar.

And, strangely, he found that comforting.

* * *

Wash sighed inwardly, ignoring the voices of those around him as he cast his gaze slowly over Valhalla. It seemed… empty. Not of people – because he was fairly certain that the two teams plus Doc and Donut were plenty – but empty of _purpose_. Empty of direction. Empty of the life that had previously filled the canyon and its inhabitants and driven them forward.

Now it just seemed… deflated. The life previously occupying the canyon had gone, disappeared into the wind, and they had been left spinning in its wake and wondering what the hell to do next.

Perhaps he would have wondered where it had gone, if it hadn't already been so obvious. He knew exactly why and where it had gone – after all, he had watched it drive away on a Mongoose.

She had never looked back, and he hated the way he had expected her to.

But most of all, he hated the way he had felt disappointed when she did not.

Wash closed his eyes briefly, and cursed silently inside his mind. For a moment, he entertained a vision of himself racing after them... but then reason and logic reasserted itself and he re-opened his eyes, tuning in to catch the last of Simmons plea.

"Do we have to?" he whined, standing a little closer to their base than his teammates. Wash eyed him, and a small smile played at his lips.

"That depends," he answered. "How badly do you want your flag back?"

The Red looked down at his feet, shuffling them in the grass, and Wash could almost hear his heavy sigh. He glanced backwards, seeming hopeful.

"Hey, don't look at me," Grif said warningly. "It's your turn."

Simmons groaned, and Wash watched him impassively. "I would just like to let everyone know that I suck, and that I'm a girl-"

Tucker leaned in behind him, and spoke quietly. "You know, it was funny the first few times… but this _is _starting to get depressing."

His sides expanded in a long, heavy sigh. Even through his Freelancer armour, Wash could feel the wind plucking at his side. _It's fine for you_, he thought bitterly, picturing the breeze as it floated away, out of the canyon. _You're going somewhere. Doing something._ Wash kept his gaze lowered on the Reds as he replied, though there was no need. They weren't going anywhere. No one was, really. "Yeah."

"-and I like ribbons in my hair, and I want to kiss all the boys." Simmons finished, finally, and rose out his dejected slump. The Reds eyed their enemies curiously, hopeful, and another half-smile twitched at Wash's lips – though he hardly felt amused.

"Hey, what else have you got?" he asked. It wasn't likely that they had anything, as the Blues had taken everything of value from their base and the loot was now piled behind them triumphantly.

"Nothing!" squealed Grif indignantly. "That stupid flag was the only thing we had left!"

But Simmons turned back to them slowly. "Actually, there's still _one_ thing you still haven't taken…"

Their interest piqued, the Blues followed the Reds back across the canyon.

* * *

South followed Carolina as she ghosted across the open grass, heading for the run-down facility some fifty metres ahead of them. Her right wrist felt stiff and uncomfortable, no doubt a result of keeping it at an odd angle for hours on end to keep the Mongoose at full speed. The ex-Freelancer lifted her hand from her gun and shook it absently, trying to work out the stiffness in the joint. But the result yielded no result, and so she ground her teeth and moved forward.

The trip had been mostly silent between the two ex-Freelancers. Carolina had talked to Epsilon occasionally, and South had traded insults with the arrogant A.I., but conversation between themselves had been stunted. That was fine, so far as South was concerned. She had nothing to say to the former number-one. And Carolina had nothing of value to say to her, either.

Still, South ran her gaze over the ex-Freelancer and wondered why. So far, Carolina had done virtually nothing about South supposedly having killed her brother. She hadn't – _abandonment in the name of self-preservation was not the same, would never be the same, she hadn't done it, hadn't meant it like that_ – but Carolina didn't seem too concerned with it either way. The fact aggravated South, and made her feel disgusted by her companion. Carolina was so full of herself, all the time; as though she were superior, as though she was _better_ – as though she wasn't guilty of the same crimes.

South clenched her fingers tighter around the barrel of her DMR, feeling her armour flex as it added extra power to the simple action. But the weapon remained unchanged.

Carolina paused ahead of her, and Epsilon flashed to life beside her. As always when she saw that particular A.I., South felt the bitterness spike through her before it settled into the old, familiar anger. She glared at Epsilon as she drew level with Carolina, arriving in time to hear them talk.

"How many?" Carolina asked, gazing around the space around them as though she expected to be attacked any second.

When Epsilon replied, his words were surprising. "None," he answered.

South raised an eyebrow in shock. "Really. You're sure?" Carolina asked, glancing back at the A.I.

"He's probably just malfunctioning," South muttered snidely. "Epsilon _never_ worked right."

The A.I. turned to look at her. "I'm sorry, did I do something to piss you off recently?" he snapped, taking a step towards her.

South mirrored the action. "You really have to _ask_?" Her voice was drenched in sarcastic shock.

"Cut it out, guys." Carolina turned her calm, level gaze onto the ex-Freelancer. "Cool it, South. You too, Epsilon."

"It's Church," the A.I. muttered, before subsiding.

_Cool it, South_. Had Carolina purposefully used her brother's words? South didn't know, but the three words were enough to stun her into silence. Epsilon spoke again after a moment.

"Yeah, I'm positive. We're alone."

_No, we're aren't_. The trio wouldn't be alone – it just wasn't possible.

South had learned her lessons a long time ago, and now her instincts screamed defiantly against the simple sentence. They weren't alone. Life just wasn't that kind.

* * *

"Is that what I think it is?" Washington was half-frozen in disbelief. "Is that, _whose_ I think it is?"

"Stolen alien weaponry used by the scariest fucking mute in the galaxy? Yeah. Pretty much," replied Simmons. Wash raised his eyebrows to stare at the simulation soldier.

"It's like, half knife, half rifle," Sarge observed gruffly. "What would you call that?"

_Knifle_. That had been its pet nickname, given to it by the other Freelancers when Maine had returned with the alien weapon. Maine had growled in approval, lifting the Knifle to stare at it, seeming hypnotized. Even Tex had been impressed by the brutal weapon.

Wash blinked, and was thrown back into reality when he realized he had missed half of the conversation. "You've been hiding one of the most advanced pieces of technology known to man, so you can hang it, in your living room?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it sounds dumb," Grif retorted. Wash rolled his eyes.

"That's because it is dumb!" he insisted.

He tuned out of the conversation again, for just a moment, as he stared back at the shining gun laid out on the ground. His ribs seemed to contract over his heart, until it beat painfully over his heart.

God, but he missed Maine. Back before, when he hadn't been the Meta, and they had been friends. Just Maine.

"I don't know; I just thought it was cool," Doc was saying. All the other soldiers had turned to face him, high on the base ramp, and so Wash did the same, a little confused for a moment as he realized the conversation had taken a different turn. "I mean, come on, you guys have been through a lot together. Don't you want something to remember all the good times?"

"The _good times_?" Tucker snorted. "I was stranded in the desert!"

"We were almost killed!" Simmons squeaked in protest.

"I learned my entire military career was a lie!" Sarge huffed, looking angry. Wisely, Wash remained silent as the CO of Red Team glanced at him.

"And I got shot!" Donut added.

Wash coughed awkwardly, and then Doc continued. "Okay, yeah; it wasn't perfect. But look what you all got out of it!"

"You mean the rifle-knife?" Sarge glanced down at the gun in the grass, nudging it with his armoured boot as he harrumphed.

_Knifle_, Wash corrected him automatically. But then Grif interrupted before he could; "You mean the Grif Shot?"

Doc continued. "Sure, there's that, but Sarge; you finally got to lead an actual military operation! And Tucker, you learned how to use your sword like a pro."

"Bow chicka bow wow?" Tucker trailed off uncertainly, and Wash smiled.

"You found a new team, Simmons got back his old team, I finally managed to keep a patient from dying-"

"And in return, I didn't die!" Donut interrupted, beaming. Wash froze, feeling awkward. He sighed in relief when Doc began again.

"You see, in the end, we all worked together, and everyone got what they wanted."

"Not everyone."

Wash turned as Caboose spoke up. He seemed sad, wistful, and Wash instantly knew what he was talking about. His heart began to sink. "You do realize," he began, knowing what they all thinking, "that if you go after them, there's no promise you'll come back. This isn't a game, not to the Director. He plays for keeps."

Sarge stepped forward, and answered gruffly, "Ah well, this place was getting' kinda stale anyways."

"After _everything _Church and Carolina said, the way they treated you… After all the times South lashed out at you, and physically hurt you…" He trailed off.

"Hey, we gave _you_ a second chance," Simmons pointed out. Wash nodded thoughtfully, but still wasn't convinced. He turned to the others.

"Besides, if we quit every time Church started shouting, this shit would have been over a long time ago." Grif grinned triumphantly, and Wash had to concede that he had a point.

"We're be out-gunned, we'll be out… everything-ed. This is stupid. Just think for a minute before doing anything reckless." Well, it _was_ stupid. Even if they weren't killed by whatever forces where still protecting the Director, there was still one thing that posed a threat, regardless. South.

"Son, stupid and reckless is how we _always_ get things done," said Sarge. The Red puffed out his chest, but Wash shook his head.

"But, Sarge I-"

"No!" Sarge interrupted him roughly, and stepped forward. "There's one thing you Freelancers always seem to forget: and that's the fact that we manage to kick your ass time and time again. Oh sure, you've got all yer smart plans and fancy armour and yer fancy training, but in the end, what has that got ya? Without a team you can count on, without your fellow soldier by your side, all that really doesn't amount to squat, now does it? So instead of standing there bellyachin' all day, just tell us: are you gonna keep playing it safe? Or are you gonna get a little-" his voice dropped, and Sarge cocked his shotgun, "-reckless?"

"This has got to be the worst idea, _ever_…" Wash took a breath. But… at least… well, it wasn't the worst idea ever, _of all time…_ "But you can count me in."

"Oooh, me too!" Donut squealed in delight.

"Yes – and me! Oh, Church is gonna be so happy!" Caboose clapped his hands together.

"I am too! Man, this is gonna be so cool; I love how inclusive you guys have become. I'm gonna go pack my medical idea for the trip. Ooh, don't rock the zealot!" Doc laughed, and turned away to get his 'medical gear'. But Wash was occupied by another problem.

"Uh, guys?" Simmons spoke before he could, and all heads swung to face him. "They've got a huge head start. How're we supposed to reach them in time?"

At least he hadn't been the only one to noti-

"_Freeze, this is an ambush! You are under arrest for the theft of UNSC property!"_

Wash swung to face the speaker – the pilot of a UNSC airship that had dropped down in front of them. Two others hovered in a rough circle around the two teams. Slowly, he grinned.

* * *

"It's up here!"

South glanced up at Epsilon's call, and reluctantly walked in his direction. So far, their search of the facility had yielded no results – until now, it seemed. From far away, she could hear another voice.

"I am sorry, this is a secure facility. Only authorized personnel may enter."

"FILSS? Is that you? What's happened to you?" Carolina spoke quickly, her voice laced with quiet horror. South doubled her speed, and slowed to a stop when she reached the pair standing before a large screen attached to a tree. She raised an eyebrow at the lettering on the screen – _F.I.L.S.S. _– and understood Carolina's words.

"This is a secure facility," FILSS continued pleasantly. "Only authorized personnel may enter. Please, leave the premises immediately."

South pushed forward, shoving Carolina aside. "This is Agent South Dakota of Project Freelancer. Open the door, FILSS."

There was a pause, and then FILSS spoke again. "I'm sorry, but the designation _Agent South Dakota_ is no longer recognized with Project Freelancer."

South closed her eyes, and cursed inwardly. Of course, once she and her brother had escaped the _Mother of Invention_, the Director and Councilor would no doubt have removed all the traitorous agents from the program listings. Carolina scoffed, and stepped in front of her.

"FILSS, this is Agent Carolina of Project Freelancer. Acknowledge and go for secure." Of course, Carolina had never technically left the program before it had been disbanded. She might still be recognized as an agent –

"I am sorry: I recognize that designation, but only _authorized_ personnel may enter this facility." South smirked at Carolina as the ex-Freelancer faltered. But Carolina just turned to face Epsilon.

"Church?" she asked.

"Open the door, FILSS," Epsilon commanded.

"Certainly," the A.I. responded. Behind them, a door hissed open – previously hidden in the wall. "Welcome back, Director. I did not expect to see you again so soon."

"Thank you," Carolina said, and turned.

"My pleasure." Church and FILSS said it at the same time, and South raised one eyebrow slightly. "Strange." The three turned back when FILSS spoke again. "I was unaware you had left, Director. I will have to scan my files and find the error."

Carolina stepped forward, tipping her head to the side curiously. "Left?"

"Yes," FILSS responded, her voice even and pleasant. "Since his last visit."

"So you show the Director as being inside the facility as well as outside?"

FILSS spoke again, "Strange, is it not?"

"I'll say so," South muttered. They glanced at her.

"Yes… Strange." Carolina looked back at the open door, and gripped her gun with newfound determination. "And exactly what we were hoping for."

* * *

"I don't like this."

South rolled her eyes as they advanced through the hall. That fucking AI _always_ had something to complain about, didn't he?

"Me neither," Carolina replied. "Where _is_ everyone?"

Whatever. If they hadn't stationed people outside of the building, that only amounted up to one thing in South's mind; the facility was seriously understaffed. And if it was, wouldn't it make more sense for them to be surrounding the Director?  
"That's not it." Epsilon's voice broke through the silence once again. "I've just got a weird sense of… déjà vu."

"Shhh!" South snapped. She had heard something. Instantly, Carolina was still, and Church broke off whatever he had been about to say. South tipped her head to the side, and adjusted the settings on her helmet with a few gestures. A moment later, broken noise began to filter through the speakers.

_And don't worry. You'll see me again._

_Play it again, FILSS._

_Sir, you should really stop to eat. It has been several days._

_Again._

_Leonard, come on, stop it – they're gonna make me hop._

South let out a shaky breath. She didn't know what it was she could hear, but she didn't like it.

"You're not the only one," Carolina muttered.

_Please, I have to go. Don't make me hurt you._

They rounded a corner, and Carolina spied a doorway of to the side. She walked to it slowly, and pushed it open. Shining teleporters blinked back at her, waiting enticingly.

"This is it," Church whispered.

"Ready to meet your maker?" Carolina's voice carried only the hint of mockery.

"I've got your back, Carolina."

South paused, staring wide-eyed at the row of teleporters. Every single one offered escape, freedom – a world where she could melt away and never be found again.

"South?"

It was Carolina. She hovered by one of the teleporters, one hand raised towards her companion. South blinked.

No, she couldn't leave. Not now. She had chosen to come back for a reason.

Besides, if she left now she would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder and wondering what had become of the people she had left behind.

South took a deep breath, and stepped through the teleporter.

* * *

White, blinding light.

Her ears rang, and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the film that covered her eyes. After a moment, it melted unwillingly away.

And what she saw made her heart sink.

"Oh, oh no…" Church's whisper was filled with horror. Her heart sank further.

"Church? What is this?" Carolina's voice trembled, and South didn't begrudge her for it.

"He kept trying. He kept trying to get her _right_." Church was frozen, his gaze sweeping over the rows and rows of black, armoured bodies.

"You think these are anything like the real deal?" asked Carolina.

South snapped her head to the side, fingering her DMR uncertainly. The walls of the huge hall were straight sheets of metal, covered by a dark roof. All in all, it was a standard military facility. Well… except for the _things_ that occupied it.

They stepped forward – all of them. South swept her gaze over them, a quick headcount. She got lost somewhere after sixty. The robots punched their fist into waiting palms, and cracked their necks simultaneously.

One stepped forward. "You have no idea what kind of trouble you are in. Ha. Ha. Ha."

And suddenly, South wished she had taken her chance and stepped into another teleporter – one that had led to freedom.

Because now, she knew they would never make it out alive.

* * *

**A/N: Since this chapter was extraordinarily late, I'll get to work on the next one ASAP. My other friend has offered her laptop for me to use now at the hospital, so that should be okay. Anyway, see you guys next time ;) **

**And as always, reviews and concrit are always welcome :)**


	9. Should've Known Better

_Breathe in._

Her gaze swept quickly over the many, many robots, and Carolina felt her breath catch in her chest. There were so many. How could she hope to defeat _any_ of them, let alone all? She had never been able to match Texas – and now, when she was expected to mow down them _all_, Carolina found herself recalling every missed shot, every hand-to-hand blow that had failed to fall her enemy. She hadn't beat Texas. _How could she hope to do it now?_

_That just means there's no room for mistakes, Carolina. But you _can_ do this._

_I can?_

_Yeah._ Church's voice was weary. She wondered why he was so tired, but then he spoke again. _I know you can. You weren't number one for nothing._

_I wasn't number one, Church. Not while she was there._

_It isn't her. These… drones… are just copies. She's not here._

_I guess. _But Carolina felt hope stir in her chest, felt her fingers tighten defiantly over the plasma pistols by her side. The whole conversation had taken only a few seconds. And when the Texes ran, charging headlong towards them, she was ready. "South?"

"I'm here, Carolina." Her voice was determined, full of steel.

"Good."

_Breathe out._

"Alright; me first." Carolina took a half-step forward, tightening her grip and raising the plasma pistols towards the rush of robot bodies. Plasma roared forth, dropping them like flies. She felt a savage grin expose her teeth, and glanced at South. How was she holding up?

But the ex-Freelancer had her DMR raised, shooting with deadly skill and thinning the ranks before they reached Carolina. She felt mildly surprised; Carolina had always assumed South to be uncomfortable with long-range weaponry, since North had always been the one to snipe, or to provide back-up from afar. She realized now that South was just as terrifyingly accurate.

_Watch your left!_

Carolina didn't question the order. She dropped her pistols immediately, throwing herself backwards and onto her back, a quick flip in the air as she tore the shotgun from her back. A black fist swung past her helmet, whirring as it cut through the air. _Missed me_, she thought smugly.

But in the momentary reprieve from her gunfire, the Texes had surged forward. She shot once, the shotgun's roar exploding in a vengeful boom, and she darted past one's fallen body. More were waiting behind it; she planted her foot on one's bent knee, leaping to another's shoulder, and then bouncing on to one's head, using it to catapult herself into the air.

She felt Epsilon's approval and smiled.

Carolina crashed to the ground, using another Tex to soften the blow. There was no time to think; only time for action, and reaction.

_BOOM! _A Tex fell back, two more surging forward to take its place. Carolina grimaced, cocking the shotgun quickly and firing, sending them flying to the side.

They all rushed her. Carolina shot, taking out three more, the others followed relentlessly. She jumped up, flipping backwards and feeling her feet connect with two of the Texes, shoving them away. _I'm going to be sick! _Epsilon cried. Carolina smirked, but otherwise made no reply. She loosed another shot as she landed, spinning in time to deflect a kick from behind with her elbow. She twirled, kicking the Tex away and firing simultaneously so that it flew backwards. Carolina exhaled quickly, lashing out with her back foot to drive away two others, and stepping back to avoid the swing of another.

_There's so many! _Her mental cry was full of despair.

_We're fine. You're doing good._

_Thanks,_ she thought dryly, deflecting the blow of another Tex and kicking out with both feet to push it away. Her back arched, and she swung her shotgun in time to fire at another who had hoped to take advantage of her momentary, though purposeful, fall.

More rushed towards her. She loaded the shotgun, firing repetitively as she fought. Carolina flipped in a no-handed cartwheel, driving another Tex away ash she fired at two more. Three Texes came too close for comfort; she let the shotgun's roar boom out as she kicked the third down, finally sending it soaring into two more of its companions.

But one was not to be deterred; it rushed at her, aiming for her helmet with a wild swing. Carolina brought the shotgun up and fired, but too slow – the gun was knocked powerfully out of her grasp and she gasped in anger.

The Tex brought its knee up, hoping to catch her in her stomach, but Carolina neatly sidestepped the blow and lashed out with her own foot, sending it crashing to the floor. But there was no lull in the conflict – another ran at her from behind. She spun, managing to duck beneath the black flicker of a flying fist and rose from her crouch, bringing her hands together to slam down on its back. The whirring broke down and the Tex lay still.

She kicked it away, ducking again beneath a black fist and came up with a powerful kick that slammed into the Tex's midsection. Carolina laughed darkly, spinning quickly over its back and twirling as she landed, gaining enough momentum to send it flying into another of its companions.

The movement brought her down in a crouch, she paused for a moment as an armored leg swung over her head. No time for anything but improvisation, Carolina leapt up and kicked, snapping the Tex's head back and driving her other foot into its stomach. But this one was not so easily broken; it came up swinging, and she blocked and deflected the punches as best she could, landing a few of her own. There was almost no sound – in a detached part of her mind, she realized that South's gunfire had broken off – other than the odd crunches as her fist made connections with the Tex's chin, and a muted echo that she assumed was South fighting as well.

She grabbed its arm as the robot swung, spinning in a quick circle before letting go. The Tex soared away from her, and crashed loudly into two stacked crates before falling to the floor.

Another rushed towards her, and Carolina threw herself backwards. A quiet part of her mind noted that a crate had crashed to the floor, countless frag grenades spilling from its depths. The other part of her mind was completely submerged in the conflict.

Carolina slipped, tumbling to the side as her foot landed on one of the grenades. Luckily, the Texes had fallen too, but she was first to rise to her feet. She glanced down, feeling nothing but irritation at the interruption.

_Use them, Carolina_. Epsilon's voice was excited, but detached. She assumed he was having to concentrate pretty hard to keep up with the fight.

_How? _But even before she had finished posing the question to the AI, Carolina was moving. She kicking a grenade swiftly, sending it soaring into the air. It knocked against a Tex, sending it tipping to the side.

Carolina stepped back, her left hand dipping smoothly and then rising again to bring her grappling pistol high. A memory flashed through her mind, a quick image accompanied by Wash's wail; _I don't want to end up like Georgia! _Carolina smiled, feeling Epsilon's amusement radiate though her mind, and then pulled the trigger.

The grapple connected to the grenade with a clang, and Carolina whipped her arm back, bringing it flying towards her. The grenade swept past a Tex's legs, tripping it up and Carolina laughed, though her mind was utterly focused. The grenade flew past her, tangling between the legs of two others and sending them crashing to the floor. Carolina whipped it back, swinging it into one before launching it in a wide circle as she kicked the first Tex away.

She flicked her wrist, sending it towards the first of another rush of Tex's. But the robot raised its hands, blocking the grenade and sending it bouncing back to Carolina. She snarled, whipping the grenade-grappling cable around her, and then swung wide, aiming low to trip the advancing Texes.

_BOOM!_

Carolina cried out, stepping backwards and accidentally letting go of the grappling pistol as the grenades exploded with fiery vengeance. How-?

"South!" She cried angrily, spotting the ex-Freelancer with her pistol out, still aimed at the grenades.

"At least it worked, 'Lina!" answered South, with an impish grin. Carolina glowered at the mocking use of her nickname, but their conversation was broken when South turned away, deflecting a punch from one of the many Texes and retaliating with an explosive kick that bent its knee in entirely the wrong direction. Carolina felt slightly sickened at South's cruelty, unable to look away as South ducked beneath a flying fist, rising swiftly enough to catch the owner's arm and twist it savagely enough that even Carolina, halfway across the room, could hear the resounding crack.

_Watch out!  
_Carolina looked up in time to catch a vicious blow under her chin. She felt her body leave the ground, flying through the air and crashing painfully to the metal floor a fair distance away. She groaned weakly, but rose to he feet again. Epsilon-Church flashed to life beside her, and she glowered at the AI , furious. "Could you be a little more specific?" she snarled.

"Yeah, uh, Sorry Carolina, but seeing this many ex-girlfriends in one room? Kinda has me terrified beyond the capacity for ration thought," he said apologetically.

But Carolina shook her head, still angry. "Well snap out of it, I need you!"

"Need me for wha – ow!"

Carolina spun, facing the remaining Texes with a snarl. She hesitated for one moment in her crouch, feeling the power surge through her limbs. And then she was away.

Carolina was halfway across the room in a heartbeat, feeling her speed unit lend wings to her feet. She blew past the Texes, raising dust in her wake, and let out a wild cry of exhilaration. It was almost too late when she realized she had left them all behind, and instead cried out to Epsilon for help.

"Church, brake right!" She skidded to a stop, feeling her boots grip the metal floor. Carolina spun, breathless, and spotted the robots running towards her. She glanced around quickly, but she couldn't see South.

She ran, mowing down Texes every step. They flew out of her way, crashing into crates and walls and each other, and she felt fierce victory burning through her every vein. But where the hell was South?!

_Carolina, I don't think I can do this much longer!_

_Just _hold on!

She spun to a stop, falling into a crouch and scrabbling at the ground for extra purchase, her heart racing in her chest. Come on, where was South?

_Seriously, you need to slow down!_

"_No!_" Her voice was breathless, but Carolina surged forward anyway. "I can do this!"

"_Carolina!_" A voice, not Epsilon's, broke through her thoughts. She flipped, dealing out punches and kicks and knocking down robots with a single blow.

"South?" she yelled, unable to find her amongst the sea of black armor.

"Yeah it's – OW! YOU BITCH I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!" The threat was quickly followed by an enraged scream, filled with anger and spite and raw agony.

Finally, Carolina broke through the swarm of Texes that followed her. Blue armor flashed in the corner of her eye, and it took a moment for her to remember that that was South. She was struggling, her arms held by two Texes who pulled them behind her back at impossible angles. Her helmet had fallen, and her face was an awful mess. Purple bruising had exploded beneath her eyes, remnants of the many fights between her and Wash. Her nose was slightly crooked, no doubt a result of – once again – the times Wash had broken it. But worse, much worse, was the vivid crimson that soaked her face. It poured out of her nose, which had probably been broken again, and welled from the many cuts across her face. A third Tex stood before her, calmly unloading blow after blow onto her body. South was holding her chest at an awkward angle, and Carolina guessed that one of her ribs had already been shattered. Her left fist, held in the grip of another Tex, seemed mangled and broken.

But as Carolina raced towards her, South raised her chin defiantly towards the Tex before her. It seemed to pause, cocking its head to one side, and South coughed, and spat bright crimson blood onto her visor.

The Tex responded instantly with a backhand slap, the edge of her gauntlet slicing across South's cheekbone and opening yet another cut.

Carolina sped up, racing between the Texes that blocked her way. She had to help South – there was no way she could escape on her own.

_Carolina! _Suddenly, the part of her mind holding Epsilon seemed to detach itself, and his voice came from far away. And suddenly, fighting her way through the seemingly never-ending line of Texas', she could hear _them_.

"_She really wants to win_." Wash's voice drifted into her mind, and she cried out.

"Ah!"

_Carolina, stop!_

But she couldn't, because now York was talking and she could hardly hold back her tears.

"_-n't know _how_ to-_"

Rage and fury swirled within her, and she screamed her vengeance, hurling aside the bodies as she broke through them.

_Carolina, calm down!_

"_Real hero, Carolina._" South? Of course, that bitch ha always been so condescending-

_Get a hold of yourself!_

And now, North. Calm, wise, and gentle, one her only close friends within the program. "_She's always been like this_," he whispered, his voice distorted.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she sped forward despite her deteriorating vision –

She didn't see it coming until it was too late.

The arm smacked her across the throat, and Carolina flipped into the air, with no control over her motion. Her body crashed into something solid and unyielding – Carolina slid slowly down the metal crate until her body rested against the floor. It ached, burning with shame and injury. _She had failed. _And the final voice spoke softly from within her mind.

_"You can't win, Carolina_."

_Come on, get up!_ Epsilon urged.

"She was right." Carolina rose slowly to her knees, her voice cracked and broken. "I can't do this. I can't beat her. I could _never _beat her."

The voice stuttered, returned to normal.

"_B-b-b-better luck next time, C-C-Carolina."_

Suddenly, blue spheres hissed out of nowhere, catching onto to the lip of three of the Texes helmets. Carolina took a half-step back, shocked, and looked to the direction they had come from.

"Nine points, you dirty whores!" Donut yelled triumphantly, his pink armor sparkling under the fluorescent lighting.

Carolina didn't hesitate, throwing herself to the side in a messy summersault before sprawling untidily on the ground. Behind her, three plasma grenade exploded, and the tight bands of failure around her chest loosened, and she could breathe.

"Get up." A grey and yellow armored hand was thrust into her field of vision. Carolina smiled briefly, and accepted it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Wash.

He smiled in turn, gesturing around at his friends. "I told you, they're not so bad once you get to know 'em." He unclipped a Magnum from his waist, and offered it to her without breaking her gaze. She grabbed it thankfully, nodding to him once.

Epsilon flashed to life, and walked slowly to his teammates. They ignored him, and so he spoke first. "I thought this wasn't your fight?" he asked, pointedly looking towards Sarge.

"Come on," the Red said gruffly. "Overwhelming odds with little to no chance of success? How could we resist?"

"You got a problem with that, Church?" Tucker raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Epsilon-Church sighed, and spread his hands in defeat. "Guys? I'm an asshole. I admit it, and will gladly accept any and all smartass remarks after this is over. But I would like to point out the fact that we are standing in a room full of crazy, Freelancer robots, that are ready to completely and utterly fuck our shit up."

"So, cheesy forgiveness speech later?" Tucker asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Sarge agreed.

But their attention was re-captured when Carolina spoke, holding out her pistol and sliding in a fresh clip. "Lock and load, people," she said warningly.

Everyone drew their weapons, holding their fingers readily on the triggers. Doc giggled in a terrified kind of way, charging his scanner to full power. Tucker's sword flashed to life, and they all turned to face the army of remaining Texes. Predictably, Caboose was facing the wrong way. Church sighed, and padded silently to his side.

"Caboose? I need you to get a little angry, okay buddy?" he asked slowly.

"Okay," Caboose agreed willingly. And then he paused. "Yeah, I don't remember how to do that."

Church grinned. "I do."

But suddenly, they were all interrupted by a piercing, rage-filled scream.

"YOU BITCH! YOU LITTLE – OW! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS ARE GONNA PAY FOR THAT!"

Wash turned his head slowly to the side, and raised an eyebrow at Carolina. She shrugged, and he shook his head slowly in disbelief. Carolina grinned. "Let's get 'em, boys!"

* * *

South struggled violently, almost tearing her arms out of the sockets in her need to escape. But the robots were resolute, holding her stationary as the third one unloaded blow after blow, the pain building until she was on the verge of blacking out. But she was still conscious enough to feel the agony, and to scream her rage at the three black figures whom held her so successfully trapped.

"BITCH! I WILL KICK YOUR ASS!" The snarl erupted from her throat and she thrashed, feeling the pain lance up her arms. Beyond the black Freelancer Tex-bots, everything was blurry and distorted. She could see strange, multicolored swirls but dismissed them angrily. "BURN IN HELL YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" she screamed, her voice clawing its way out roughly.

Oh, she would kill them all for this! Stupid bitch, thinking herself so high and mighty, all-powerful now that South was trapped. And where the fuck was Carolina? The bitch was probably laughing her head off right now, speeding lightly out of harm's way every time a Tex attempted to rip her head off.

It had been a small mistake that had led South to her pitiful demise. She's swung angrily, feeling the familiar rage roar forward in her chest as a Tex kicked, caving in her ribs, and had used too much force. The Tex had ducked out of the way, leaving South stumbling, and two of the other fucking robots, whirring distractingly, had stepped forward and imprisoned her arms.

Distractedly, her mind detached in so many ways – why was the room spinning like that? It didn't seem normal. And what the fuck; why was everything fading, and growing darker? It made it harder to focus on the Tex-bot in front of her – South noted absently that gunfire had returned to the room. Strange; it boomed out in the roar of a shotgun, the explosion of some monstrous weapon that bizarrely brought an image of Maine to mind, and in the regular crack of a DMR and assault rifle as it rained lead death. And also some weird swishing noise she was unfamiliar with – and a large, booming voice declaring something about taxes. What the hell?

South snarled, and drew her eyebrows together in an attempt to focus her eyes. Her vision wavered, turning pitch for a moment before leaping briefly into stunning clarity. She sucked in a breath, and nearly choked on blood as it whistled down her throat.

South coughed, drawing it all into her mouth. The Tex hesitated, and then kicked at her stomach. Her ribs screamed in protest, but South grinned, knowing her teeth would be gleaming blood-red and dripping. "Hey, bitch," she said pleasantly.

The ploy worked and the Tex paused, its fist cocked comically in the air. South resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and instead spat. A glob of crimson flew through the air before smacking into the Tex-bot's golden visor, mirroring the other one beside it.

South's head snapped to the side before she even realized she'd been hit, and pain bloomed belatedly across her temple. She giggled insanely, feeling hysteria bubble up in her chest.

The Tex stepped closer, and South watched it in her peripheral vision. An image rose in her mind, and she grinned again, exposing her bloodied teeth once more.

_Come on, just a little closer,_ she begged silently.

The Tex-bot took another half-step towards her.

South threw herself forward, and the two Tex's holding her arms stumbled, allowing her the extra distance she needed. Her left foot pushed off the ground, and she stretched, following the motion as far as she could.

Her right foot snaked around the Tex's neck and yanked, pulling it closer towards her. South raised her other leg, and added its strength to her desperate bid. The Tex-bot stumbled, and South wrenched it forward. Then, she slammed her forehead forward, smacking it into the Tex-bot's helmet with a resounding _crack! _Red and black spots burst in her eyes as she completed the savage motion, dragging the Texes behind her as she did so.

South uncurled her fingers from around the Tex's neck, and it dropped to the floor, stunned.

The two behind her had been yanked off-balance by her violence, and she slid her arms quickly from between their fingers, knowing that bruises would have already formed from their intense pressure. Her left fist scraped past its previous captor, and it was so numb South could barely feel the agonizing spike of pain that lanced into her fingers when they brushed against something solid. Blood flowed back into her arms, and South forced away the numbness, also shaking her head in a brief effort to clear it.

It didn't work.

South spun, rising to her feet, but unfortunately the room spun with her. She felt gravity shift around her, pulling her first in one direction and then to the opposite, causing her to dip and sway. The Texes rose, seemingly at an odd angle to herself, and South lurched towards them, her hands stuck out in front of her.

The Texes dropped into ready stances, hands raised, waiting. South paused, wondering detachedly if it was such a good idea to run headlong into them – and then the world disappeared momentarily in a flash of frightening black, and she knew that she didn't have much time before she collapsed.

One leapt up from its stance, foot raised and lashing out towards her face. In a flash of clarity, South realized she should retrieve her helmet, and then the clear thought faded and she clumsily side-stepped the hasty blow. Her hand lashed out, palm open, to snap against the bottom of the Tex-bot's helmet. It was a weak blow, but worked nonetheless, and South spun for momentum – the world tipped bizarrely to the side, and she was dancing on the very edge of the earth – before slamming her foot into its midsection.

The Tex fell over, but so did South, crashing to the floor in a disgraceful tumble. Her back slammed against the metal ground, and her head whip-lashed back, hitting the floor with a _boom_ that echoed mightily in her mind. South cried out, clutching her head as she fell to the side. Her body curved in on itself reflexively, and her chest screamed out in pain as her shattered rib was crushed further. Tears pricked shamefully at her eyes, but South was losing herself to the darkness and couldn't find the strength to care.

Her eyes opened in the tiniest crack as vibrations shuddered through the floor. The second Tex had risen, yet now knelt beside her broken body, its fist raised and South was struck through with the immediate familiarity – _where had she seen this before? _But her mind leapt forward, shoving an image before her eyes so that it overlapped reality; her head snapping back with a sense of finality, a crack that echoed across the room as her neck and spine snapped, her eyes burning with a searing pain and then fading, until naught was left but the echo of flames.

_Crack! Crack-boom!_

The Texes fell away, and South felt her body break down in trembles as her savior walked up behind her, unseen.

"South?" The voice was familiar, and it waded in amongst her fading consciousness. She drew in a halting breath, the pain in her chest crushing her lungs. _Who else, asshole?_

"South, what the hell happened to you?" _Wasn't it obvious? Or had they – whoever the hell they were – not seen as she had broken?_

She felt it as they knelt down beside her, and as they shook her shoulders none too gently. "South!" She didn't respond, though her eyes strained to see past the blurred lines and focus on whomever had saved her. "Carolina, she's not responding."

A reply, broken off and sounding as though it were yelled across a distance. The person beside her hesitated, and then –

- they slapped her.

South shrieked as pain exploded across the left side of her face, the cuts on her skin stinging with fresh horror and the bruises aching with more force. She snarled, and jackknifed upwards, ignoring the fresh waves of pain and the shifting gravity as it tried to pull her to one side, drew back her palm, and slapped him back.

Her eyes focused just in time to catch Wash's expression as he fell to the side, clutching at his cheek in mild outrage. He looked at her balefully. "Yeah, she's back," he said flatly.

South leered at him, and then raised her gaze to sweep the area behind him. Red Team and Blue Team fought valiantly, and had backed off into a corner, no doubt so that Wash could save her while the rest held off the army of Texes.

Not, of course, that she had needed saving.

Wash rose slowly to his feet, still glaring at her. She shrugged at him, hiding the smirk that begged to spill across her features. "What," he snapped, "no '_thanks for saving my ungrateful ass, Wash_'?"

"Nope," South replied evenly. She hadn't needed to be saved, so why should she thank him for intervening, pointlessly? She had been handling it fine on her own. "We were getting along just _splendidly_ without you." Her words were drenched in sarcasm, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. She felt vaguely proud, and yet also disappointed, to see it.

Suddenly, all the Texes dropped lifelessly to the floor. The whirring stopped, and for a heartbeat the long room was blessedly silent. What the hell had she missed?

"It's done." Epsilon burst into existence at Carolina's shoulder, and his voice was so… _heartbroken_… that South didn't have the energy for the usual flare of bitter hatred she conjured whenever the AI appeared.

"Uh, you know you could have done that before I got punched in the balls by like, twenty of them at once," Grif huffed, and South felt her lips twitch in a half-hearted smirk.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Tucker asked, and she had to concede it was a good point. But God, she just felt so _exhausted_.

"Nice goin' there, Church. I guess little fairies really do make wishes come true!" Sarge joked, his voice light and teasing.

"I could have told you that!" Donut insisted, and Doc smiled brightly.

But Simmons interrupted; "So, I guess our work here is done?"

"Almost." Wash spoke from beside South, and she turned to stare at him. "There's still the Director."

"No." When Epsilon-Church spoke, South felt his words like hammer blows across her skin. Her stomach dropped, and the all-too familiar rage rose in her chest, threatening to choke her. "What comes next, Carolina and I need to do alone."

There was a heartbeat of long, unbroken silence while South struggled to find her voice.

"No! As if, asshole! I came all this way for him, _you are not doing this without me!_" South snarled, stepping forward. Wash raised a hand as though to restrain her, thought better of it, and lowered his arm. "Sure, Carolina went crazy, and _you_ have all the memories of your fucked-up girlfriend and your supposed _torture_, but _none_ of you lost your family! North may have been misdirected, and an asshole who didn't know where his loyalties _should_ lie, but he was my brother! _None_ of you lost family like I did. It is my _right_ to storm up there and totally _fuck his shit up_ for what he did to me. I deserve this. I lost the only family I had left to that asshole."

"And I didn't?" Carolina spoke quietly, but South felt her argument shatter around her. Bitterness rose in her throat as she stared defiantly at the ex-Freelancer, but she was the first to break her gaze. She stared, unseeing, at the floor.

Conversation broke out again in quiet murmurs, but she tuned it all out. One person returned to stand by her shoulder, hesitating as though they were going to say something, but then the turned away. South didn't know who it was.

But when she looked up, Carolina and Epsilon were gone.

* * *

"Hey Wash, look at this!"

He looked up in time to see Tucker slice open one of the crates with his energy sword, its contents spilling out haphazardly. Wash grinned as he saw what remained inside – special armor ability units.

Tucker crowed in delight, and reached out to read the packaging on one as Wash bent down to retrieve one himself. "_Hologram_," the Blue read, "_to create a perfect replica of the user for tactical use in a battle or simulation situation._"

_C.T. _Wash felt his stomach drop to the floor. "Maybe we should leave those," he began hesitantly. Somehow, he didn't think it would be right. And if he saw a healing unit in there, it would only remind him of York and Delta. A bubble-shield would only bring to mind North and Theta; a speed unit Carolina, Eta, and Iota. And an invisibility unit? He glanced around. Surely they had had enough of Texas to last a few lifetimes. He tossed his unit to the side without looking at it, feeling slightly sick.

Wash looked to the left at a girly squeal of pain. Doc had Sarge and Simmons restraining a thrashing Grif as he tried to treat a wound in his thigh – not from a Tex robot, but from when he had been swinging his Grif shot around triumphantly and accidentally nicked himself with the sharp blade. Donut stood beside Doc, peering nosily over his shoulder as he treated the unwilling patient.

Caboose walked slowly through the crowd of broken Texes. Wash watched as he nudged a few, seemingly confused as to why they had all frozen. And then he shook his head in disbelief a Caboose took a step backwards and tripped on a frag grenade, sliding to the floor in an uncoordinated tangle.

"Wait, what the hell…" Tucker spoke again, and Wash look back towards the Blue. But Tucker was pointing behind Wash, and asked in a confused tone; "Where the hell did South go?"

His head whipped to the side. South was gone, the place where she had been standing silent and empty. How had they not noticed her walking off?

Then his gaze dropped to floor – where he had tossed the special armor ability unit to the side without a glance. His mouth dried out; had it been an invisibility unit?

"Oh, fuck," he growled.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was insanely fun to write XD Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.  
Anyway, I guess I don't have much to say today. Have a good one, you guys.**

**Review? ;)**


	10. Poisoned

"I just need to watch this. I think I have a way. A way to bring her back this time."

Delicately, Carolina lowered her hand to the table. Metal eyes pierced easily through the soft darkness, an angled mask to hide her face. Light from the large screen shone through the shadows, reflecting dully off of her aquamarine armour.

"The authorities are hunting you now," she pointed out. "If I found you, they will too." She took a breath of filtered air, the oxygen in her suit tasting somewhat stale.

The Director hunched in his chair, but his eyes remained fixed on the screen above. Desperate orbs filled with an odd sort of compassion. "I just need a bit more time…"

"_No!_" The angered cry burst out at the same time Epsilon conjured himself onto her shoulder. He walked forward, holographic boots noiseless, until he hovered beside the Director. "You've had your _fucking time_. You have to _answer_ for what you did. To the Meta, to Washington, to Carolina… to _me_, and to _her_. To Texas!"

The Director's response was slow in coming, but when he spoke, it was as though the AI had never uttered a word. But still his gaze did not leave that of Allison's. "Hello, Epsilon." His voice was empty, like that of an echo in a deserted hall. He had fallen so far from the man he had once been. "You came all this way just to see me?"

Was that… hope? The faintest emotion in his voice spoke volumes. Epsilon ignored it with steadfast certainty. "I'm here to _remember_ what you've done." The emphasis on _remember_ was bitter, and left a foul taste in the air. Carolina found herself grateful for the stale air that filled her lungs now. "_Somebody_ has to."

"Church-" she interrupted, but the AI overrode her, his voice increasing in volume until he was almost yelling his accusations.

"Not all of us got off scot-free, Carolina." The familiar phrase struck a chord, and her jaw clamped shut with an almost-audible _click_. But the AI continued to speak, and they could only watch with muted, horrified sympathy as he_ remembered_. The blue became green, his deep voice rising to a more even pitch. "_He was brilliant,_" Delta whispered, "_and we trusted him!_" Theta cried, his voice broken and in despair. Their voices dropped, becoming halting and distinctly computer-like. "_But he lied, to us_," Gamma, master of deception, spoke. "_He twisted, and tortured us!_" The enraged roar burst from Omega, the pure anger streaming from his holographic body making Carolina want to shudder. "_And used us, and manipulated us for his own purposes_," Sigma snarled. "_And for what? For this?_" The different personalities melted and combined, each word dripped in a different aspect of each AI. But they spoke together in haunting harmony. "_This, shadow?_" They paused, and faded away, until only Epsilon was left. His voice was raw with pain. "He needs to pay."

For a moment, only silence reigned throughout the darkened room. The only noise was the muted playback, Allison's voice reaching through years and miles to speak to them.

_Leonard, come on. I have to go. Don't make me hurt you._

Slowly, her movements hesitant and yet undoubtedly sure, Carolina raised her hands. Fingers automatically found the latch under her chin, years of practice and repetitive de-armouring at the end of each exhausting, fight-filled day making her movements familiar, she pulled her helmet free. Red hair tumbled free, still caught in an encircling band. She watched evenly as the Director reached with trembling fingers to remove his glasses.

Vivid green eyes stared back at her, mirroring her own. His mouth pulled to one side, unhappiness and despair etched into every wrinkle. Her father hadn't always been so broken.

* * *

_"Daddy!" the tiny redhead shrieked, her youthful voice bubbly and excited. She tottered towards him, her hands held out in front of her. "James says that he found a mean doggy in David's backyard. He says it tried to eat him, Daddy! Can I go look?"_

_Leonardo Church hesitated in the driveway, one hand resting on his car door as he watched his little girl race towards him. No, wait – he shouldn't call her that anymore. Carolina had celebrated her nineth birthday just a week ago. She wasn't quite so little anymore. _

_Another small shard of his heart broke off and fell, shattering on the diamond-hard floor of his despair. How could he tell his little girl, his sweet little Carolina, that her mother would not be coming home?_

_Bloodshot eyes followed as the redhead crashed into his legs, wrapping her arms and legs around his. "I missed you, Daddy," she whimpered, her strong and brave façade slipping for just an instant. She was so like Allison. Another shard broke away, and he felt its loss keenly. _

_"Oh, 'Lina…"_

_Leonard dropped to his knees, and encircled his little girl within the safety of his arms. He could protect her, couldn't he, for just a few more moments? The news could wait – she deserved to dance in her sweet blissful happiness for as long as he could let her. _

_"Daddy, James made fun of me again." Carolina whispered her secret quietly into her father's ear. He buried his face in her sleek hair, taking a shuddering breath. It smelt of wildflowers; her mother's scent, too. How much longer could he protect her from the truth? "He said Mummy only stays in the army because she gets tired of me bossing her around, because that's what he'd do if he lived with me." _

_One more piece shattered on the floor of his broken heart._

_Leonard knew that the other kids on their street often made fun of 'Lina because her mother was always away, fighting for their freedom. They didn't understand her sacrifice. And little James, one of Carolina's best friends, had always teased her mercilessly. Leonard and Allison had often joked with 'Lina about why._

_"Oh, sweetheart…" Leonardo pulled away, looking his little girl in the eye. It couldn't wait any longer; she would resent him later, for keeping it from her as long as he already had. He only wished that little James had left his teasing for another day. "I'm going to tell you something, okay? And I need you to be strong for me, sweetheart…"_

* * *

_And don't worry; I'll see you again._

Carolina blinked back tears, the memory seared in her mind. After her father had told her, she had run crying down the street, straight into the arms of the only person who she could count on to say nothing and just understand – her best friend.

_Ready?_

"Just… a bit more time," the Director pleaded. She held his gaze for a moment longer, wondering if he remembered that day in such clarity as she. Perhaps, perhaps he did.

"Come on Church. We're leaving," she told him, and turned to walk away.

"I thought we came all this way to kill him." Church was adamant. But he was fading, the memories as fresh in his mind as they were in hers. Epsilon, after all, had been designed to _remember_.

"Church, remember what you learned in the memory unit? You need to let go. Your past doesn't define who you are. It just gives you the starting point for who you're going to be."

"Agent Carolina?" The Director's voice pulled her back to the present. She spun slowly.

"Yes, Director?" Somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to call him _father_. Too much had changed.

"Would you be so kind as to leave me your pistol?"

She unholstered it slowly, and placed it on the table beside him. She knew its destiny, and strangely, that didn't upset her so much as it should have. Her father had been gone for a long time.

"Thank you, Carolina."

"Goodbye, Sir."

Carolina hesitated, and slowly bent down. Her lips brushed against her father's forehead, a final farewell. She walked away, knowing that Church would follow. Her boots clinked repetitively against the metal floor, at time with her slow, even heartbeat. Behind her, they spoke.

"_You were my greatest creation_."

"I don't know what I am." Church seemed tired, too. Maybe they all needed a good, long rest. "But I do know this: I'm more than just a copy of you. I'm better than you."

The response was slow, but sure. "_I wasn't speaking to you_."

And then Church joined Carolina's side, and they walked through the dark halls together.

Behind them, in the dark and cool room where the file still played, the shadows began to fall away. In fits and starts, the invisibility unit ran out of charge, and a bleeding silhouette was left in its place.

* * *

"Wash! Carolina's back, and so is Church!"

The former Freelancer spun, his heart jumping as he thought that Tucker had spoken of the other Church. But it was not to be; the aquamarine rogue and her AI companion were the only ones to walk towards them.

Wash began to move in their direction, hesitant. So many things could have happened while they waited. His boots brushed against the grass, and Carolina raised a hand in recognition. The sunlight reflected brilliantly off of her visor, but his own darkened to protect his eyes from the harmful ray.

"So…" he began, unsure.

"I guess that's that," Church said, sighing. He seemed… content.

"I guess it is," Carolina answered. Wash looked between them. Had they done the deed?

And then, he decided it didn't matter. The only thing that did was that they needed a fresh start. Somewhere to go, now that this was all over.

But one thing still occupied his mind.

"Carolina, when you found the Director, was… was there someone with you?"

She frowned, hesitant. "No… what do you mean, Wash?"

He let out a huge breath, in one large exhale. "I mean, South. Was she with you?"

"No, she wasn't. I thought she was with you."

"She was… but then… we found some special ability units, and, well…" He winced. "One of them was an invisibility unit, and South used it to get away."

"No, she wasn't with us." Surprisingly, Carolina was less upset by this news than he had thought she would be.

"Well, she's not with us, either."  
"That only leaves one option." Church spoke with surety. "South is still inside."

* * *

"Play it again, FILSS."

"_Beginning playback._"

"Thank you FILSS, and now I would like you to erase all your files except one-"

"I don't _think_ so."

The silhouette limped forward, one hand clasped tightly over her ribs. Dried blood caked her fingers, but at least none escaped from the wound. A dark blue helmet dangled from weak fingertips, and she let it fall onto the table once she was close enough. She staggered to the side and dragged a chair towards her with failing strength.

"Agent South Dakota," FILSS said politely. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"I'd say the same, FILSS," South answered from between gritted teeth. The pain was almost too much to bear, now that the adrenaline had faded from her system. "But I'm sure you won't be too surprised to hear that I hoped never to run into Project Freelancer again."

"And yet you came here of your own free will." The Director spoke quietly, and South appraised him with her gaze. The driven, calculating mastermind that she remembered was gone. This man was different from the one she had hated.

"I need answers," she replied. The air here was stale and recycled. She sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "And you are the only one who has them."

"Of course," the Director answered. His eyes, slightly unfocused without his glasses, were still fixed on the screen. She noted his green eyes – so alike those of Carolina. It had been no secret that they were father and daughter, but to see the evidence before her, no longer hidden behind grey shades, was… odd. "You have only ever sought that which would benefit yourself. Though I fail to see how the past helps, now."

"Trust me," South whispered. She blinked once, and ran her tongue over her lip anxiously. It tasted of blood, and sweat. "I don't either. I just… I need to know."

"You want to know of your brother." It was a statement, not a question, but South answered anyway.

"Yes," she hissed, her breath hitching slightly. South's fingers tightened, clutching at her ribs. She inhaled, shivering slightly, and ducked her head. Her eyes glistened, pain dripping slowly down her face.

Silence extended between the pair as South struggled to regain control. Her eyes flickered, latching onto the scene that played repetitively above them. Each moment was echoed in the Director's empty eyes. She leant back slowly in her chair, and raised a shaking hand to wipe her face free of blood. But the crimson agony had dried on her face, and South succeeded only in smearing it.

"You… you knew, didn't you? You gave him Theta, because you _knew_ what I would do." Her voice cracked.

"Perhaps." The Director never looked away from his screen. "The effects of jealousy on partnered soldiers was… interesting. The two of you presented an excellent opportunity," he whispered.

"_An excellent opportunity_," she repeated. South blinked once, slowly. "I… we… were a test?"

"Of a sort," the Director answered, his voice quiet. He seemed reluctant to interrupt the video of Allison before them. South glanced at it again.

"Was I _ever_ going to get one?" she whispered.

It was only then that the Director turned his head. He regarded her cautiously, as one does a wild animal when unsure of its intentions. Slowly, he began to speak. "The Counselour, he wanted… he wanted to see if the rift could be healed. If jealousy was the only thing keeping you apart. If there could be again what once was. The Counselour wanted unity."

"And you – you wanted to divide and conquer," she accused, her voice bitter and stale. South's grey gaze pierced the Director, and he matched with his own.

"Perhaps," he admitted reluctantly. "Some have called it so."

Once again, they both fell silent. South breathed raggedly in and out, repeatedly clenching and unclenching her fist. A slow wave of dizziness swept over her, and she fought back bile. There was only one last thing she wanted to know. One final question, the answer to which she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.

Finally, South stood. Her armour creaked as she rose from the chair, and she roughly swiped the dark blue helmet from the table, glancing incuriously at the pistol as she did so. She staggered to the doorway, limping unevenly. South paused, one hand resting on the metal wall. Its frigid touch was oddly steadying, and she looked back.

"Director," South began. He stiffened, waiting for a final biting insult or accusation. But South was weary, tired. She wanted nothing more than the answer she had travelled all this way for. "Was it… was it _me?_" Nothing more than a whisper, but her voice still cracked on that final word. He didn't pause to wonder what she meant. It was all too obvious.

"Agent North Dakota's death… it was not foreseen. The experiment may have had some residual effect, but for it to have extended that far is… unlikely. Your brother's death… the program played no part in that."

Ice spread slowly through her veins as her worst wonderings were confirmed. _No…_ she protested weakly, her limbs freezing as the horror wrapped itself around her mind. She was not responsible. She couldn't be. _All those years…_

South straightened, and took one more step forward. Her hand was still wrapped around her ribs, but she hesitated before walking more. Her head turned slightly to the side, but she did not look back. "That's…" her voice broke, and she cleared her throat weakly. "That's all I wanted to know."

And then Agent South Dakota walked away.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

"Caboose, don't touch that! You'll break it!"

South froze, stiffening in her crouch. Tucker's voice had burst out from some distance away, but still she remained wary. Slowly, she half-rose from her crouch, and glanced over the crates that separated her from the two Blues. Tucker crossed his arms and huffed, staring at Caboose as he fiddled with something South could not see. Her curiosity fulfilled, she glanced back and returned her attention to the matter at hand.

"Oh, no it won't, I just - I broke it."

Frowning slightly, South wielded the delicate, thin piece of metal skillfully, inserting it into the helmet's crack. Slowly, she began to exert pressure on the thin bar.

"Tucker did it," Caboose continued blandly.

"Dude, you can't say that when I'm right here."

She hissed in frustration, and applied even more pressure. Suddenly, the catch broke with a _snap!_ and South smirked. The hidden compartment fell open, and she reached through it with sure fingers.

"Tucker said it." South rolled her eyes, and gripped the even slimmer, smooth metal square, prying it out as delicately as she could. The grey and yellow helmet, discarded amongst the rest of Blue Teams' glared at her solidly.

"Oh my God, just shut up," Tucker complained.

"Both of you shut up!" South jumped, and the slim metal disk flew from her hand. She snarled a quiet curse, and crawled after it, all the while hidden from Washington's view by the stack of crates to her right. "And get back to work!"

"What do you mean, _get back to work? _That implies previous work," Tucker protested smugly. South could practically hear his eye roll.

"I am putting my back to work," said Caboose determinedly.

South grunted in victory as her smooth gloves closed over the metal. She cupped it in her hand, and, removing her helmet, gently blew the dirt from its shiny surface. She hoped desperately that its brief tumble had not damaged its contents in any way.

Wash huffed in slight annoyance and mild amusement, and she felt the reverberation of his footsteps as they struck the ground. South shifted, and peeked over the rim of the crate. Tucker and Caboose ignored her, and Wash appeared to have moved back into their base. She sighed in relief, and rose to her feet, brushing the gritty dirt from her armoured knees. Her old injuries, healing but still painful, gave her pause as she stood.

South ducked her head, and walked casually away, her hand clenched protectively over the metal she had so delicately extracted from Wash's helmet. Her heartbeat pounded fiercely in triumph, and she was loathe to stop the grin from spreading over her face. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

And then South remembered why she had stolen it and the smile faded.

Her pace slowed as she searched the canyon, her gaze probing every corner. But it was not until she rounded a corner for the third time, and Carolina shifted that her armour caught the light and sent a dazzling ray straight into South's visor. She winced, and stepped back into the shadows. But her gaze remained locked on the set of aquamarine armour standing atop the cliff, and South's eyes narrowed. She had just one more thing to steal…

* * *

Slowly, Wash straightened from his relaxed stance against the wall, and unfolded his arms. South stood, her arms held slightly away from her body as though prepared for flight, some metres ahead of him. The sun drenched her silhouette in light, and Wash eyed it shrewdly. Something was off, he just knew it. Ever since her visit to the Director – which she still refused to talk about, even to Carolina – South had been… slowed. Her momentum had been lost, her drive forgotten. She had been empty.

And yet now, it seemed she had regained some of her lost purpose.

The change had been utterly sudden. In fact, Wash had only noticed her sudden change in mood an hour ago. At first, she had seemed only more downtrodden, but then her excitement had grown and Wash had vowed to keep a watchful eye. For a few minutes, he had lost her, but South had reappeared from behind a few crates. Suspicious, he had retrieved his helmet and followed.

Now, he replaced his helmet over his head, clicking it into place. Wash frowned as he noted the change in HUD – some of the settings he had changed over the years, suiting to his preference, had reverted back to default. He sighed, and made a mental note to change them back later.

But for now, he had a target in his sights and he would _not_ lose her.

* * *

South took a deep breath, and carefully took another step. Her feet brushed against grass, and she could see the abrupt flattening of green, but her armour remained unseen.

She smirked, but felt irritation flicker in her chest as she nearly stumbled. Walking without seeing oneself was proving trickier than she had remembered – it distorted her spacial awareness, and made it a hell of a lot easier to fall flat on her face.

The hill she was walking up was on a steep incline, which only served to make her job harder. South frowned, and hissed from between clenched teeth as she focused her mind utterly on trying to run up the hill. It worked for a little while, before she stumbled and fell. South snarled under her breath. How the _hell _had Tex managed this?!

But finally, South fell to flat, even ground. She gathered her hands beneath her body and groaned, pushing herself to a sitting position. She sighed and deactivated the invisibility unit, saving its charge. But now she was all too visible, and South crawled to a boulder in an attempt to hide.

Silence surrounded her, only the faintest of murmurs caught and carried on the wind. South tipped her head to the side, and adjusted the settings on her HUD; the background noise fell away, and she could suddenly hear in greater clarity the conversation she had come to interrupt.

Though, if she did it right, they would never know she had ever been there.

"_Yeah, still, I hate to leave without saying something. They deserve to at least hear goodbye_." South's eyebrows shot up, right into her hairline. They were leaving? Was she too late? Did they know?

It was unlikely, but that didn't stop South from worrying. Maybe he had only sent it to her because he thought the others were still Freelancers with capital _F_'s, though if he had kept an ear to the ground like he _should_ then South didn't see how he could make such a mistake…

"_My mother had a saying. Did I ever tell you about my mother?_"

Oh God, this was gonna be a good one. Probably some great sob-story, some heroic crap the Director had told his little girl to soften the fact that her mother _was never coming to see her again, because she was dead. They weren't twins anymore and she was the only one to blame, would only ever be the one to blame, he was dead and she had killed him and oh-god-she-just-wanted-to-cry-where-had-he-gone-oh-north-please-come-back-please-come-back-i-didnt-mean-it-im-so-sorry-_

South pulled her thoughts back with a gasp, her entire body frozen with ice. Her heart galloped in her chest, and pins pricked at her eyes. She took a great shuddering breath and tucked her head between her knees, trying desperately just to breathe.

"_She wasn't around a lot when I was a kid, and even when she was she could only stay a short time. Seems like she always had somewhere else to be; something important to do. And when she left, she wouldn't say goodbye to me. If you don't say goodbye then you aren't really gone. You just aren't here right now_."

A laugh, brought to her on the wind. "_Your mother sounds like a smart lady._"

"_She was. She really was. Had terrible taste in men though_."

Footsteps, coming her way. South's eyes shot open and she leapt to her feet. Only one pair, which meant it was Carolina. South waited until the footsteps were about to circle her boulder, and then activated her special unit.

Her body faded as Carolina rounded her hiding place without sparing a glance towards the immobile freelancer. South watched her with shrewd eyes. _Dammit_. She should have been paying more attention. If she had snuck up while Carolina had been talking to Church…

Carolina started down the hill, out of earshot, and South made to follow, her form glittering slightly as she moved.

"_Oof!_"

A gasp burst from her lips as someone tackled her from behind. In her mind, South cursed colourfully – _this_ was what came from having your eyes closed. Would she never learn?

But South went with the movement, rolling with her attacker. Their arms encircled her middle, trapping her arms, so she pushed with her legs until she was on top and then slammed her helmeted head down until it cracked on her attacker's head.

"Ow! Jesus, South!"

The voice was familiar, but South snickered and kicked out, struggling to get free. Washington avoided her legs easily, and pushed them over until South was face-first in the dirt.

"Let _go_, asshole," she spat. Wash smirked, releasing his grip on her middle only to push her chest against the ground, leaning all his weight onto her back so she was trapped.

Wash raised a hand and unbuckled his helmet, letting it fall to the ground. In the midday heat, the sun beat down unforgivingly on his back. He wiped his forehead of sweat, and took a breath. "What are you doing here, South?"

"Why do you think? The view, jackass." Sarcasm dripped from her tone and he grinned.

"Nice try. What were you going to do to Carolina?"

A pause, and then; "Nothing!" South protested loudly, and squirmed.

He shook his head ruefully. "Don't lie t – aagh!"

South bucked, throwing her head up and then down until she gained enough momentum to flip them both. She struggled briefly, his grip having slackened in surprise, and ripped herself free.

South sprung to her feet and settled into a guarded, defensive stance. She cocked her head and watched him rise to his feet coolly.

A smirk pulled her lips to one side. "Oh, Wash. You never _do_ learn, do yo-"

Wash tipped his head to one side in response, and raised his fist in response. South froze, her sentence dying in her throat.

South had looked down the barrel of a pistol many times before, but somehow Washington always made it seem so much more final.

"You were saying?" asked Wash, his voice cold.

South licked her lips, nervous. She blinked, willing the memories of the pain and agony that gun had brought her away, and reached with trembling hands to undo the catch on her helmet. Slowly, she lifted it away, baring her face.

South hated feeling this vulnerable.

But if she had expected that to give him pause, South was wrong. Wash made no response, simply watched her. She took a step forward.

"Stop," Wash commanded her. But South's heartbeat was thundering in her veins, and she just didn't want to.

The adrenaline was so _addicting_.

"South, do not come any closer." But still she kept on walking.

When finally she halted, South had the barrel pressed against her forehead. Her breathing was ragged and halting, but her gaze never moved from his. Wash held his breath.

"Whatcha gonna do, Wash?" Her voice was less than a whisper, and it shook slightly. In fear? "Shoot me?"

Silence.

_Whatcha gonna do Wash? Shoot m- BANG!_

The memory ran in both of their minds, and Wash sucked in a breath through his teeth. Could he do this?

But South had taken his hesitation for a _no_. Her lips curled upwards on one side, and she took a step closer, raising one gentle hand to brush his aside. She stepped closer, her grey eyes unfailing.

And then… she leaned closer and kissed him.

Their lips met hesitantly, but Wash soon forgot his hesitation and kissed her back with all the passion he had been saving, so ignorant had he been of what he had wanted all this time-

South ripped the pistol from his hand, and in one smooth movement, spun – breaking the kiss and his heart with it – and slammed the hilt into the side of Wash's head. She danced lightly away, touching one lip hesitantly with the fingers of her free hand. Washington crumpled, and curled reflexively into a ball. He groaned.

"I'm sorry, Wash." Her breathing was quick and ragged. "But I had to do it."

"Why, South?" His cry was one of pain and angered despair. He had _failed_. Again.

But she paused, and for one moment South appeared torn. And then she gathered herself, and looked him in the eye. This, she resolved, was one thing she could not lie for.

"Because loving you might just kill me," she said.

And then South walked away.

* * *

Agent Washington rose groggily from his position in the dirt, clutching at the side of his head. He could already feel a bruise forming beneath the skin, and he winced, remembering the pain that had bloomed across his temple as _she_ had struck.

He took a long, shuddering breath that rattled in his chest. It hurt, and he turned to the side and coughed. He was so _stupid_. Letting the memories take over his mind, a yearning for what they had had blur his reasoning.

Had Epsilon taught him nothing? Sometimes it was just better not to remember.

Wash rose to one knee, and slowly pushed himself upwards until he swayed unsteadily on two legs. Fingers gently massaged the forming bruise, but then Wash let them fall. His right hand brushed his empty leg; of course, South had taken the pistol. He reached over his shoulder and took the DMR in his arms, cradling it gently.

Washington glanced over his shoulder, at the bases he would leave behind. _I'm sorry,_ he whispered in his mind.

But then he turned his gaze to the front, and with a quick signal, his HUD changed. Faded orange struck a path through the grass, leading… south. How ironic, Wash noted with a snort. But a smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. He would find her, he was sure of it. And after that… well, Wash decided he wouldn't make up his mind about that quite yet.

After all, he had a long way to go. She had a head-start, and Wash was dead-set on catching up.

And so Washington raced after the fading ghosts, the heat signatures faint in his HUD.

And he never said goodbye.

* * *

South Dakota was running.

Strange, she had forgotten how much she loved to run. She could not feel the wind nipping at her skin or tugging at her hair, but South thought it a fair price for the added speed her armour lent her. She flew through the grasses, leaping over the dips and trenches.

It was still incredibly slow, but South relished the freedom. Eventually, she knew she would steal and hotwire a car or motorbike, but for now South reveled in the physical release. Back in high school, before the day where it all changed, she had run track. Of course, that hadn't been her only sport – tennis, competitive swimming, soccer, netball and volleyball to name a few she had excelled in – but she had enjoyed it the most. North, of course, had been a quarterback.

She'd even been a cheerleader for a couple years, back before she threw her hands in the air and decided, _fuck it._ She'd been at his every game, watching her twin shine. It hadn't been so bad at the beginning… but then the rope had tightened around her neck, and South had started to struggle.

South slowed to a walk, her chest heaving. She decided it was time for a few minutes rest – after all, she could hardly run the whole way to… wherever the hell she was going.

South frowned, her forehead creasing. Her pace slowed, and she quickly navigated through her HUD with a few signals. In a pocket, the metal disc she had stolen rattled. _That_ had turned out to be entirely useless. She just hoped Carolina's data unit was just as barren.

South's eyebrows drew together as she reread the message. It had seemed gibberish to her the first day she had received it, but after decoding it - which, despite being an essential Freelancer ability, had taken her a few days – she had realized it was not a message, but a set of co-ordinates.

Ordinarily, South wouldn't have cared. She would have chosen to stay with Carolina, Wash, the Blues and the Reds. Stay somewhere peaceful, for a while. Reflect on what she had learnt, and perhaps she would have eventually probed the bleeding hole in her chest where her twin had once resided.

But one thing about the message had given her pause, and ignited the burning desire that had propelled her to steal Wash's data unit, attempt to take Carolina's, and run away. She didn't want them to find _him_ first. She needed to… explain.

They had been close, once. Not as close as he and North had been, exactly, but friends. She had trusted him.

And now she just hoped he could trust her.

South took a deep breath, and broke into a sprint. She needed to find him, and she didn't care if she broke her body in the process. But as she ran, her eyes read over and over again the signature at the bottom of the message, once she had decoded it.

_Foxtrot-12._

* * *

**_End Of Part I_**

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys :) Once again, this is gonna be a long author's note, but please read it all the way this time.**

**(Except for this bit, unless you are the mysterious Guest.)**

**Guest: Thank you, once again, for your kind words :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as you did the previous ones. **

**(Okay, now I need you guys to tune back in.)**

**Anyway, so despite the cliff-hanger ending, I am unsure whether or not to continue this fic when Season 11 of RvB comes out. I'm sitting on the fence, if you will. I do know exactly what I want to do with Part II (as by now, you probably do too), but it's extremely hard to write each chapter well, week-by-week, with no greater idea of what's going on than anyone else. So, basically, I want/need your opinions on this, just so I know how you guys feel about it.**

**I also have another fairly large, multi-chapter Red vs. Blue fic coming out soon-ish, which would make it also harder to write quality chapters of this. It's gonna be called 'Sonder', and the details are on my profile if you want to take a peek. **

**So, yeah. Opinions, please? :)**

**And as this is the final chapter of Part I, I want to take the time to thank you guys for reading this – all of you readers; reviewers, alert-ers, favourite-ers, and the lurkers too. Thank you guys so much, for sticking with me all through Part I. :)**

**Have a good one, you guys :)**


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